


The Way It Should Be

by LemonSupreme



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: #Charloe, F/M, Lemon's first multi chap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonSupreme/pseuds/LemonSupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right at the end of episode 2.13 "Happy Endings", but before the guys get caught. That's where I take Connor and Charloe AU because in my version Connor and Bass get away clean and meet Charlie at the rendezvous point as planned. Some excitement, some fighting, some romance. </p><p>This was originally posted on FanFic.  It was the first multi-chap story I published for Revolution/CHARLOE.</p><p>For Thessie who kept asking me to bring this oldie to AO3.  I'll post a chap or two a day until it's all cross-posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Wow" Connor chuckles, "That was fun." He grins at Charlie. They are bumping down a road on the back of the horse drawn wagon. The lights and sounds of New Vegas are now behind them, but just barely. The excitement of the night is fading, replaced by the exhaustion that weighs them down. They are all so tired. Bass is driving. He hasn't said a word since they met up with Duncan and exchanged the diamonds for a promise of men. The mercenaries will be setting out tomorrow. 

Connor, his Dad and Charlie are headed to a small settlement that Bass considers friendly – at least for the most part. The plan is that they will camp there tonight and start out for Willoughby in the morning. Charlie is sitting at attention across from Connor in the back of the wagon. Her cross bow is loosely clutched in her hands. Her swords are at the ready. Her eyes are scanning left and right. They are now enveloped in deep darkness, with only the occasional flutter of moonlight through the trees to light the way.

She's ignoring Connor completely. He shrugs. Nothing is going to shake his good mood tonight. Smiling, he leans back against the side of the wagon and relaxes, using a rolled up tarp for a pillow. Soon he is sound asleep. Charlie climbs up front and sits next to Bass. "Now's your chance."

He glances at her, "Chance for what?"

"Seems to me like you've been itching to say something for a while now." Charlie's voice is low. She doesn't want nor need Connor's input. "So, now's your chance."

"You're wrong, Charlotte. There is nothing for me to say." He stares ahead. His jaw is set firmly. His eyes glint in the moonlight.

She sighs, "Really?" Her eyes are glued to his profile. "Because it seemed like you wanted to say a whole lot after you found me with Connor, but you shut down, pretended it didn't happen. We haven't really had a moment alone since."

"Well, I'm sorry." Sarcasm drips from every word, "We've just been too damn busy fighting and stealing diamonds and escaping with our lives. Forgive me if I haven't taken some time to sit around painting my toenails and sharing my feelings with you.' He grimaces a little at the soreness he feels everywhere. "But I'm telling you the truth. I have nothing to say about…" he pauses. "About you and Connor." He prays that she'll just drop it. He does not want to talk about this. He's not in the mood to talk at all. Now, if she decided she wanted more than talking…

No. He shakes that out of his head. Wrong time. Wrong place. Definitely the wrong woman.

"Obviously it didn't mean anything." She's no longer looking at him. "I've known him for about five minutes. He may be older than me, but he is childish and smiles too much… I was just so damn horny and he was  _there_. He was there and he was cute. He was there and he was cute and he wanted me. He was there, and he reminded me of you…" She realizes she's said too much and closes her mouth tightly.

"Connor is not the only one who wanted you Charlotte." Bass is looking at her now. Really looking. Piercing her with those amazing blue eyes, before moving his focus back to the road ahead, "I suppose he's about the right age for you though."

"What the hell does age have to do with anything?" she is gritting her teeth and trying to keep her voice even. "Maybe that stuff mattered before the world turned upside down, but what difference does it make now? I may not have had as many birthdays as you have had, but that doesn't mean I'm a child. I am not a child."

Bass shakes his head, "Believe me, I well aware that you are not a child." The tone of his voice has shifted, and she hears the heat in it. A shudder runs down her spine. She glances over, and their eyes lock. "Like I said, Connor isn't the only one who wanted you, but sometimes wanting something isn't enough to warrant taking it. Wanting something doesn't mean you deserve it or that you are worthy of it. Sometimes we want something that can never happen."

She doesn't know what to say so she doesn't say anything.

They sit in silence for a while. Neither notices that Connor's eyes are now open. He had been startled awake by their voices, even though they'd tried to be quiet. He stares off into the night, just listening. So much for a good mood. "Ah hell." Connor mutters disgustedly under his breath before closing his eyes again. What a fucking mess.

 

* * *

Charlie is sitting at an old wooden table in a big tent that passes for a bar in this small settlement where Bass has brought them. She's been here for a while, trying to sort it all out in her head.

Sleeping with Connor had clearly been a mistake.

She is struggling to decide what to do next. She runs scenarios through her mind, trying to determine her next course of action. How can she fix this? Can it be fixed at all? There are no answers in this dingy bar. There is no solution at the bottom of her whiskey glass. But still, she drinks and festers and regrets. Charlie is not usually prone to regret. It is a hopeless waste of time. She knows this. It serves no purpose at all, and yet she can't shake the feeling that what she did was wrong – that she has ruined everything. What had she been thinking? Why Connor? What the hell? He was Bass' son. Bass. She sighs, and tries to shove the thought of him farther back in her mind. The look on his face when he'd found them had been awful. She'd played it cool on the outside, but inside she was dying, instantly regretting what she'd done. What had she been thinking? What can she do now to make it right, or at least – not so very, very wrong? She drinks deeply, emptying her glass and motions the little man behind the bar for a refill.

Wordlessly he pours. She drinks more.

Maybe if she'd not been so wrapped up in her own inner turmoil, she'd have noticed the change in the atmosphere when the scraggly crew walked in. She is preoccupied with the mess in her head, and she's not even close to sober. For these reasons she doesn't pay any mind to the guys that saunter into the bar. She also doesn't notice that the bar quietly empties when these new faces arrive. The little barman pours for them. He doesn't need to ask what they want. He knows. After ensuring every glass is full, he disappears into the ether. He has little hope of stopping what he knows will come next, but he doesn't have to watch. He got his fill of that long ago.

It isn't until the tall one (probably their leader) sits next to her, that she even stirs from her reverie. She looks at him without really seeing him. "Go away." She mutters.

"But we've not even formerly met," he replies jovially. His breath stinks of dead fish. Some of his teeth are blackened. Some are missing. He is ridiculously tall. Maybe seven feet. He reminds her of a freak she saw at a carnival a couple years after the lights went out. He is long and lean except for his huge hands and big bald head. He has a long thin beard and his beady eyes are taking in every inch of Charlie's slouching frame. He is clearly drunk or high. He rubs some sweat from his bony brow with strangely fat sausage fingers. Charlie focuses on the incongruous hands. They look so out of place – so large, it's as if they should belong to a different person altogether. She drunkenly wonders if somewhere a giant is missing his hands.

"Go away." She says again. But her heart has started to beat a little faster. The fighter in her knows that this freak wants to do her harm. She knows she is in for trouble and closes her eyes as the severity of her situation dawns. She has made one other mistake tonight. She is alone – very alone. She didn't tell Monroe or Connor where she was going. Never even told them she was leaving her tent. They will think she's in her bunk. Nobody will miss her till morning, and morning seems very far away indeed.

There will be no cavalry tonight - nobody to save her, except maybe Charlie herself. She takes a deep breath. "I said, go away."

Ignoring her repeated words, the big man with the even bigger hands leans close. His foul breath curdles the air around Charlie's nose. "My name is Boaz. This is my bar. This is my camp." He spreads his arms wide, proud of what he deems his. "You are my guest." He says these words and then leans in closer, hungrily inhaling her scent. "I adore having new guests." He grins wickedly and the gaps between his rotten teeth are obscene.

Charlie tosses some coins on the bar. She'd snuck them from Miles' pack earlier in the evening. She wonders now if she'll ever get a chance to pay him back. "Well, thanks for the hospitality Boaz," she looks him in the eye, "I have people waiting for me," the lie slides off her tongue. She stands and starts to move away from this foul man with the big hands. His minions watch. They are excited. The air seems to vibrate with deranged anticipation. She can smell it on them. Boaz stands when she does. He towers over her. Those big sausage fingers close around her upper arms. He is very fast. In a blink, he has pressed his long legs against hers, pinning her to the bar. She feels the sheer strength in them. She is rooted. Though slender, his body is lethally strong and hard and he makes that very clear to her when he roughly pushes against her body with his own. Bile rises in her throat as he presses into her. She grits her teeth. "Let go of me."

"Not yet my beautiful little lady." he sing-songs before throwing his head back to laugh. The laugh is echoed by his men. They are as hungry for her pain as they are for their own pleasure. Their intent is palpable.

She tries to free her arms from his vice like grip. She wills her hands to find the sword sheathed in her belt. She is unsuccessful. He gestures with his head and one of his followers relieves her of all weapons. Boaz' stance doesn't waver. He just grins down at her with those nasty black teeth. She is at his mercy, though she knows in her heart this man has no mercy within him at all.

The haze of whiskey has cleared from her head. She feels the anger building. She is a Mathison damnit, and she won't go without a fight. She waits till he lowers his head close to hers. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the words out before she bashes her forehead into what is left of his teeth. She is a bit dazed from the hit, but other than the blood now glistening between his lips, Boaz is unfazed. His grin widens.

"You," he pauses to taste his own blood, "are going to be exquisite."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bass is torn. He's torn and he's pissed, and if he's truly honest with himself – he's very jealous. Jealous of his own kid. Karma – she really is a bitch.

It's been a while now since he discovered Charlie and Connor together. It's been a while, and so much has happened since - but he can't shake the image from his head. He knows he has no right to be this worked up about them. And when he's honest, it's more jealousy than anything else. That's even worse of course. Admitting he's jealous (even if only to himself) makes him angrier. He knows she is not his. She never will be. He has no claim and can't even defend his longing for her. He knows he's not a viable option for her. He will never ever deserve her. Hell. He still can't seem to help himself. He yearns for her in a way that is raw and primal and not at all like anything he's ever experienced before.

And then all that talking on the trip here – what the hell was that about? All that talking and he's more confused than ever. It was like she was saying she wanted him and not Connor – but how could that even be possible? Bass had been responsible for so much of the heartbreak in Charlie's life. Even if (and it's a big if) she could forgive him, she'd never be able to forget. He decides to go for a swim in the little river just outside of camp. His goal is to wear himself out so that he can sleep. After the fight, he should be tired enough already but his head has too much stuff bouncing around. He's never going to be able to sleep till he can clear it.

He's in the water for almost an hour. He comes out feeling a little more human, though still not at all tired. His head is clearer. He is still agitated, but his anger has reduced to a slow simmer. His muscles hum with the high he always gets after a workout. He breathes deeply of the night air as he makes his way back to camp. He needs to talk to Connor. He needs to really clear the air this time. No more bullshit. He has to find out where his kid's head is at when it comes to Charlie. He needs to do it now.

As he walks through the camp where they have rented tents for the night, he pauses outside Charlie's dwelling. It is silent and still. No light peeks from within. She is probably sleeping. He almost stops, but decides that a chat with Connor is most important at the moment. Depending on how that goes, maybe he'll be back later. Or maybe not. He might just continue to pretend Charlie is nothing more than Miles' daughter (he's known that's what she really was all along of course). He might just pretend today never happened. Everything is going to hinge on what Connor has to say. He walks a little further before nearing his own larger tent –the one he is sharing with his son. Candlelight seeps between the seams of the canvas. For the first time he realizes that Connor might not be alone. Charlie had specifically asked for her own tent, but what if she's in there with him now, and they are in the midst of round two?

No. He doesn't think he can handle that. The anger comes rushing back, but dissipates just as quickly when he opens the flap to see Connor lounging on his bunk – alone with nothing but a book for company.

"What are you reading?" Bass doesn't look directly at his son. Instead he busies himself on his own side of their space.

"Does it even matter?" Connor's voice is low and kind of agitated for someone so recently laid. He tosses the book aside.

Bass looks at him now, sees that he's not the only Monroe wrestling demons this evening. "What happened? You were in a good mood earlier. You don't seem quite so…chipper now."

The younger man shrugs, "Just thinking. Thinking about how I don't really know you all that well. Thinking about how you don't know me. Thinking about the way you treat people…the things you've done. Thinking about how they all seem to forgive you…. Though I don't know why…" He takes a deep breath, "Thinking about how much fun it was to fuck your precious Charlotte…" his voice trails and he watches the cords in his father's neck as they tighten. He sees the fists clench, the pupils dilate.

"What did you say?" Bass finds that he can't breathe easily. He's watching his son closely, torn because he wants to love his son, but right now he wants to kill him more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. "Don't ever talk about her like that." His voice holds the chill of a man who once routinely ordered the executions of families. He remembers that part of himself, even if some have chosen to ignore it lately… He tries to reign in his anger. "Just don't…"

"I was just thinking…" Connor continues, "how much it sucks I wasn't the one she wanted in the first place."

And just like that, Bass deflates. His anger zooms from his body and he sits heavily on his cot. "What are you talking about?" His voice is quieter now. He's staring at his hands, at the floor, at anything but his son and whatever is coming.

"You know what I'm talking about." Connor stands and begins to pace. "You know and she knows!" His voice is controlled, but only just. "It appears," Connor annunciates carefully, "That I am the ONLY damn person who didn't know!"

Bass rubs his temples, still staring at the floor. "Knows what?" He repeats.

A rough laugh rips from the younger man's chest. He turns his back to his father before continuing. "I heard you guys talking on the drive here. The sexual tension between you two is thick. How the hell did I not see that before?" He shakes his head, "And I should have figured it out anyway…. Do you know she wouldn't look at me? During, I mean. She wouldn't look at me and she wouldn't say anything…" He pauses. "I could tell she was holding something back" Connor shrugs. It wasn't until I heard you guys talking that I figured out what it was she was holding onto so tightly." He turns to face his father. "I think that while she was fucking me, she was afraid she'd say something she didn't want to. I think she was pretending I was someone else. Hell, I'm pretty sure she figured if she really let go, she might slip up and say his name – the name of the guy she really wanted." He waits, watching this sink in. "Your name."

"No." Bass is on his feet now. "No Connor. We're not like that. Charlie and I are not…" he trails off, running his hands through his curls. "She does not want me, I assure you. She hates me. She has tried to kill me – more than once. Ours is not a romantic relationship, and I was only pissed because of Miles, and what Miles will think."

"Enough!" Connor yells at him. "Enough of all this bullshit about Miles! You were pissed all right, but you were pissed because it was me fucking her instead of you. Miles was not on your mind at all, Daddy dearest. You know it, and I know it. All you were thinking about was how much you've wanted to mount her yourself and how I got there first."

Bass' fist slams into Connor's mouth before he even realizes he's going to hit the younger man. They begin to fight in earnest. Punches fly. Obscenities hang in the air around them. It might have been minutes. It might have been longer. Someone is pulling them apart and they are both breathing heavily. Bass has a split lip and new cuts on top of the old ones. Connor has a fresh bruise along his jaw and a cut over his forehead. Blood trickles. Knuckles ache. They stare at each other. Hate and loathing fill the air between Father and Son.

Connor shrugs away from the random guy who had come running at the sound of fighting. He walks toward the door. On his way out, he stops and turns to Bass. "I'm done with her, not that she really wanted me anyway. Maybe she did hate you before. I don't know about that. She doesn't hate you now." He sighs, "She's all yours. If I'd realized before…" he pauses, "well, I wouldn't have touched her. You're my Dad. She's hot, but I don't love her. I don't even fucking know her... not that I really know you either." He breathes deeply and wipes a trickle of blood from his chin. "I don't have a dog in this fight, and I won't get in your way again." With that, he exits, letting the tent flap closed behind him. He is followed by the two guys who had broken up the fight.

The tent suddenly seems very small. Claustrophobic even.

"What the hell?" Bass mutters to himself. "What the fucking hell?" He picks up an empty a dusty whiskey bottle which had been abandoned by a long gone tenant. He hurls is at the wall of the tent. It makes a very unsatisfactory thump against the canvas before falling, unbroken, to the dirt. Bass takes a deep breath.

Could it really be true? Could Charlie really have feelings for him? Could she feel something other than loathing for the very man who had essentially killed half of her family? Was it possible? Bass had been watching her, wanting her for so long now. He didn't even remember when it had started. He'd just always known nothing would come of it. Nothing could, so he'd kept it in his head, tucked away in the back of his mind. But what if he was wrong? If there was even a chance that she felt anything for him….. He doesn't deserve Charlie, but if there's even a chance - he has to find her. Now.

He's charging toward her tent when the strange little bartender stops him. "Mr. Bass!"

"I don't have time right now Timothy." Bass brushes past the tiny man. He has chatted with this guy on a couple prior visits. He's a good guy as far as Bass can tell, though he seems to be involved with some unsavory characters at times. Right now Monroe doesn't want to chat. He just needs to get to her.

As if reading his mind, Timothy says, "It's the lady…the one who was with you earlier… the one you were watching… I think you called her Charlotte." His voice is breathy because until this moment, he's had to run to keep up with the much taller man. Now Bass has stopped dead in his tracks.

"What about her?" his heart begins to pound. The look on the barkeep's face says it's bad. Bass bites down on his lip, hard. He knows Timothy is a nervous fellow. He doesn't want to spook him.

"Well, Boaz has her Mr. Bass." Involuntarily Timothy takes a step back – he is after all, the bearer of very bad news indeed. Don't shoot the messenger… Don't shoot the messenger… Don't shoot the messenger…. The mantra pounds between his temples.

Bass knows Boaz. He is a sadistic bastard. He once carved his name into the belly of a girl he liked – while she screamed…. "Where?" Monroe's voice is steely and all business.

"They are at the bar." Timothy barely finishes the sentence when Bass begins to run, unsheathing his sword as he goes. "He's not alone Mr. Bass," Timothy yells after Bass. "He's got his men with him."

Bass turns and yells back, "Find Connor. Find my son. Tell him I need his help." And he is off, the night swallowing him whole.

Timothy crosses himself and says a quick prayer. These are habits instilled long before the lights went out. Habits he has tried (and failed) to quit long ago. He figures there probably isn't a God, but he hopes for Mr. Bass and the girl, that he is wrong about that tonight.

* * *

Pain.

It reverberates through the very core of her being. Boaz is crazy. He's the kind of crazy they used to lock up in padded cells (she doesn't know exactly why she knows this, but she does). He hasn't raped her, yet. He will. He's getting to it slowly. For now he is intent on the torture. It appears to be his form of foreplay. She is mostly naked. Only a faded pair of panties stands between her and her captors. She is tied tightly to the table that serves as the bar. Her wrists and ankles wound so tightly she can't feel her fingers and toes anymore. Her swords had been taken from her and now they are held at her throat by two of his minions. Boaz has a knife too. Its small but deadly sharp. He traces small lines across her shoulders, her stomach, her breasts, her hips, now and then he pushes hard enough to draw blood. Not a lot. Not enough to kill her by any means. Just enough to sting. Just enough to fill the bar with the smell of her blood. It bubbles up from the cuts here and there.

From a distance she probably looks like she has some kind of pox. Spots of red on otherwise clear smooth skin. She aches from where they took turns beating her. They had really enjoyed kicking and punching her - their evil cackles had punctuated every hit. Charlie's face is a mottled mess. The bruises are forming. The swelling is already bad enough she can hardly see out of her left eye. At least one rib is broken, probably more. Her leg is turned strangely and it feels like the ankle might be broken. At the very least it is sprained. If she gets out of here, it won't be walking. Several times she passes out from the pain, but wills herself back to the present.

She is a fighter, but as the time drags on, Charlie isn't sure she wants to fight anymore. She knows that as bad as it's been, it's going to get worse. She wills her heart to stop beating, but to no avail. She forces her mind to step away from the pain.

She searches for a happy place. She remembers her father and Danny. She remembers the metal lunch box where she'd kept her treasures so long ago, and the way Danny's smile could light up a room. She remembers the first time she ever saw Bass. She remembers how much she hated him and how much she blamed him for all that had gone wrong. She remembers that over time that hate changed. It had evolved into something different, though just as intense. It is in this moment – through the haze of intense pain that she realizes the truth.

She probably loves him. No. Not probably. She is in love with Bass Monroe, and damnit now that she's figured it out; she's going to die before she can tell him. Her mouth is filled with a dirty bar rag, but she says his name as best she can. "Bass" comes out sounding like nothing more than a guttural growl, but it seems to make a difference to her tormentors. She feels a change in the air. The knife is no longer poking her flesh. In fact, Boaz is no longer devoting any of his attention to her. How can that be? What happened? Charlie opens the one eye that isn't swollen shut. Tears are streaming down through the blood and grime so she thinks at first she's hallucinating – because there he is. Her Bass is here for her. Maybe she is dying after all. Maybe this is the end and her mind is playing this trick on her – letting her see him one more time, even if it's just in her imagination.

She is sorry she never told Bass that she loves him. She is sorry it took her so long to figure it out. She is sorry she's always having to be saved by him. These are the thoughts floating through the haze, when the blackness overtakes her, and she dives deeply into the bliss of unconsciousness where the pain disappears.


	3. Chapter 3

Bass enters the tent with both swords swinging. He sees Charlie, mostly naked and bleeding – tied to the bar like a piece of meat. He puts the awful sight out of his mind for now. These monsters must be dealt with first. He turns off every emotion – except for the rage. He needs the rage. It is his drug. It keeps him sharp in moments like this one… He flashes back on the deaths of his parents, his sisters, Shelly and the baby. He remembers Miles abandoning him and learning he'd been deprived of so many years with his son. He sucks each memory of its misery and unleashes the resulting rage upon the pigs who had dared to hurt Charlie.

His Charlie. His Charlotte.

He hacks his sword into the fleshy bits of the first two idiots within seconds of entering the tent. They are slow and fat and don't even put up a fight. Dead, they fall.

Boaz starts toward Bass, a man at each side. Another stays at the bar, a sword to her throat. Boaz has one of Charlie's swords in his right hand. A small, meaner knife is in his left. It is Charlie's blood on the tip of that knife, glistening in the candle light that sets Bass off. He charges the taller man just as two more minions come at Bass with all they've got. He mows down the first and gets a jab in at the leader but has to jump back to avoid a sword in his gut. He doesn't even pause before charging again. He is sliced across his belly but he can tell it's just a flesh wound. He lashes out and blood spurts from one of the minions' chests.

Boaz watches, with a look of mild amusement on his face. Two more men have appeared between Monroe and Boaz. Bass wonders where the hell these guys coming from? Bass lunges at the one closest to him, when he feels a new presence. Without looking, he knows Connor is at his side. Together they fight the remaining guards; they are in synch, moving together in a bloody ballet. In moments, all of Boaz' men lay in bloody heaps on the dirt floor. Only the leader remains. He no longer seems terribly amused as he jumps over to Charlie and presses the blade of the little knife to her throat. He presses the edge into her neck. Blood oozes from the fresh wound, and seeing it is the last straw for Bass. He comes unhinged.

Connor stands back. He's on guard, but knows that his Dad wants this one for himself. Justice is swift. Monroe flies at the bigger man and thrusts his sword straight through Boaz' neck. It sticks with a gushing sucking sound. Boaz looks at Bass with surprise before crumbling to the floor to die beside his minions.

The tent reeks of death. Blood is everywhere. Both Monroes are covered with it. Bass sheathes his swords and goes to Charlie. He doesn't even speak to Connor who is also putting away his weapons. Words here are not needed. Bass unties her carefully, taking mental inventory of her injuries. She is in bad shape. He feels for a pulse and finding one; picks her up tenderly. He carries her out of the tent and leaves behind the bloodied bodies of Boaz and his crew. Connor grabs a blanket from a man who is passing by and throws it loosely over Charlie to offer her some protection from the prying eyes of bystanders.

Her face is nestled in Bass' neck. She hasn't opened her eyes. Though this beating was bad, Monroe doesn't think it will kill her. Bass carries her through the camp, heading toward the river he'd swum in not long ago. The bloody man carrying a limp and apparently lifeless form draw a lot of curious stares, but nobody comes close or asks questions. Bass sees Timothy and nods grimly in his direction. It is a silent thank you. He owes that little man and promises himself to reward him accordingly. But not now. Now he must tend to Charlie.

 

* * *

Connor trails behind his father who is cradling Charlie as if she might be the most precious being on Earth. Connor is crushed with guilt. Guilt for not seeing before just how much his Dad loves this woman. Guilt for the things he'd said to his Dad earlier tonight. Guilt for not being there when Bass needed him most. Connor is glad he was there in time to help, but still the guilt is gnawing at his gut. He is very worried. He doesn't love Charlie, but he likes her. He likes her spirit and her feisty attitude. He doesn't want her to die. Someday he hopes they can be friends. For now though, the priority is helping his Dad in whatever way he can. For now, he just follows quietly, on the lookout for anyone looking to avenge Boaz and his crew.

They near the bank of the river. It is quiet here. The water is calm at this bend and the moonlight shines like diamonds on its surface. Bass doesn't even slow down other than to toss aside the wool blanket. He just walks straight into the water, fully clothed. He wades in to his chest level, keeping most of her exposed body under the water – her neck still nestled against his throat. He holds her like that for a long time, not moving. He is whispering something to her over and over. Connor can't tell what his Dad is saying to Charlie, but he knows enough to guess it is personal and not for him to hear.

Time passes. No one has come around seeking revenge, and Connor decides that nobody from town gives a rat's ass about avenging Boaz. Hell, they are probably throwing a party. He looks out at his Dad and Charlie. They are quiet. His Dad is swaying in the water, whispering to her still form, cradled in his arms. He figures they aren't going anywhere soon, so he jogs back to camp and finds a change of clothes for all three of them. He heads back to the river. When he arrives, they are still exactly where he left them. He wanders downstream a bit and washes off the blood from tonight's battle. Now clean and clothed, he settles on a big rock and just observes.

The sun is starting to rise when she finally stirs. Connor sees the way Bass tenses at first and then she panics and begins to flail at him for a moment before Connor hears his Dad say, "Charlotte, it's me." Instantly she stops fighting and clings to him. She begins to cry. At first her sobs are silent, but soon they escalate and she is rocking against Bass – her whole body is quaking. She cries like that for a long time, with Bass just holding her and shushing her quietly.

* * *

In the dream, Charlie is still tied to the bar table and that monster is sticking his big fat sausage fingers between her legs. He is cutting her and punching her ruthlessly. His idiot minions are laughing and their laughter cuts her almost as deeply as the knife does. She feels the sting of the cuts, the ache of broken bones. She tries to move, but she is immobile. She tries to scream but the gag in her dream keeps her from crying out. Over and over she tries to call for help, but to no avail. She only sees sausage fingers and knife blades and rotten teeth and blood. She only hears the laughter mocking her.

And then suddenly she breaks free from the dream, feeling disoriented and lost. She is soaking wet and scared and completely confused. Charlie realizes she is being clutched tightly to a chest. She is not okay. Her head is throbbing and she can't focus. She can only open one eye and what she does see with it is hazy and undefined. She is aware enough to be filled with fear at the unknown surrounding her. She panics, sure that it is Boaz holding her in this water. He is going to drown her and she must get free at any cost. Adrenaline surges. She flails against the body that holds her, but she finds she is unable to fight. She is simply too weak. Her body has betrayed her. Broken, Charlie sobs weakly, and then from the haze and the noise bouncing around in her head, she hears a voice. It repeats the same thing over and over and over…. "Charlotte, it's Bass. It's Bass. It's Bass."

Bass. Bass Monroe has saved her. Again. She sinks into him and cries. Sobs rack her aching body for a long time before she stills. Slowly she begins to calm. The sting of her cuts has eased in the water. Now that she is untied, her hands and feet have feeling again. They are tingling and burning, but at least they aren't numb anymore. Her side aches. Her ankle throbs, but she won't let go of Bass. Can't. Even the thought of letting go makes her skin crawl. He is her safe place. She won't leave him. Maybe not ever again. She realizes abstractly that she is quite naked. The thought that she should be embarrassed flits across her mind, but she really doesn't care. She only cares about staying close to this man who saved her, who always saves her.

Charlie has never been the damsel in distress type, but the events of this night have taken their toll. She feels helpless. It is not a feeling that she enjoys. In fact she loathes this feeling of helplessness. She despises it. She knows it will eventually pass. Right now she also knows that in Bass' arms is the only place she feels safe. On some level, she suspects that this will be her new reality for a while.

It isn't until Charlie wakes and the worst of her panic and fear have subsided, that Bass starts to think about her nakedness pressed against his body in a sexual way. He had been so focused on bringing her back to the here and now and taking care of her, that he hadn't been thinking about her skin against his. Not at first. Now though he can think of little else. Charlie seems calmer now. She's going to be okay - he's sure of it. So he shifts his weight in an attempt to loosen the hold he has on her. She clings and cries out as she feels him pull away. She will not let him go. But he has to put some distance between them. He must. After the night she's had, the last thing she needs is to feel his cock hardening in response to all that exposed skin. He closes his eyes. This is agony. He is beyond exhausted, not having slept in almost twenty-four hours, and with that epic fight in New Vegas..and the lesser, but still draining fight to save her. This past day feels like it's been a month long.

He makes a decision. He needs her to not be naked anymore. He needs this more than air. "Charlotte. I have to get you out of this water." She shakes her head limply, but he continues, "You are so cold. I won't leave you, I promise. We just need to get dried off and into some dry clothes." She makes a sound against his neck, but he can't tell if she's consenting or not. It doesn't matter at this point. He has to get her to shore. He begins to walk out of the river and onto the bank. Water sluices down their bodies. Connor has laid the wool blanket on the ground. Bass carefully lays Charlie on the nubby fabric and wraps it around her.

Bass can see Connor not far off and he motions his son over. "Start a fire. We need to warm her up. Stay with her. I'm going to wash up quickly." He turns back to the water, and she cries out for him. Connor tries to calm her but she cries the whole time Bass is away from her side. He returns and quickly dresses in the clothes his son had brought. Bass lays down next to Charlie, and in the moment that she senses his return, her breathing slows and in a moment, she is asleep.

"You might as well get comfortable. I don't think she's going to let you go far." Connor is watching his Dad carefully.

Bass looks up at his son, his expression hard, "That's all right. This is where I need to be. This is where I want to be."


	4. Chapter 4

Beyond exhausted, Bass takes Charlie to her tent and they sleep there for the next fourteen hours. Connor peeks in on them every now and then but they don't even move. They are both fully clothed. Sharing the narrow cot, they are entwined like lovers. Connor is glad that Charlie seems to be resting, but he is anxious. Duncan's men should now be well on their way to Willoughby. Miles and the others need to know they are coming so they can plan their next course of action against the Patriots. He packs his bag and waits for his Dad to wake up. They need to get on the road. Now.

When they finally come around, Bass has other ideas. Charlie is struggling both physically and emotionally. The worst of the swelling has gone down and she can see out of both eyes. Bass has carefully wrapped her broken ribs and put some salve on the worst of the cuts. Her ankle is not broken, but it is badly sprained. She hobbles around slowly with the aid of a long stick. She won't let Bass out of her sight. She is withdrawn and skittish. He is all that is keeping her from a full emotional break down. Simply, she needs him and does not need to be traveling.

Bass convinces Connor to stay at the camp with them for a few days. Timothy helps them find a courier who will deliver a message to Miles for forty diamonds. Connor thinks this is far too high a price to pay, but Bass hands over the stones without a second thought. The heist had earned them enough for Duncan's men with more to spare.

Over the next few days, Connor watches them. Charlie still doesn't talk much, but she is slowly healing. She eats a little. She sleeps a little. She follows Bass around like a sad puppy. Bass, for his part, doesn't seem to mind. In fact, if she's out of his sight, even for a minute – he is immediately on edge. Connor has been sleeping solo in the larger tent. Charlie and Bass are now officially staying together in her smaller one. She's still having nightmares, and he is the only one who can calm her when the night terrors strike.

Connor knows nothing physical has happened between them. Not yet, but it's just a matter of time. Everyone around can see this - everyone who is paying attention anyway. The air around Monroe and Charlie is thick with anticipation. Every glance ripples with heat. They seem to read each other's thoughts. They are joined in some way that even they don't understand. These two former enemies are now something else entirely. They are joined. They are an entity. Ever since the night of Boaz, they are Bass and Charlie, Charlie and Bass. They are never one without the other.

Connor frankly is getting bored with it all. They don't need him. Hell, they don't even notice him much. They aren't mean about it, but they often don't remember he's even there.

The day that he announces he's heading to Willoughby to join the fight; they don't say anything to deter him. Bass smacks him on the back and tells him to be careful. He promises that they'll follow soon. Connor waves to Charlie as he leaves. She gives him a sad smile and moves closer to Bass. He doesn't know when he'll see them again. He doesn't care anymore. He needs some fresh scenery, even if that scenery is nothing more than a bloody battlefield. He needs to not be around them anymore.

* * *

Days pass. Weeks.

A new day is dawning. Muted sounds of life are coming from the camp around the tent they share. Charlie wakes slowly, surrounded by the warmth of his arms, enveloped by the scent of him. She smiles because she didn't have a nightmare last night. This has been the first full night since the Boaz incident where she's made it through. She feels rested and almost content. Carefully, she stretches. She is still sore in places, but her body is healing. Her mind is healing too. Every day she feels stronger, better, more alive. She owes it all to Monroe.

Bass Monroe.

She feels him stir behind her. They sleep entwined like this every night – all legs and arms and bodies pressed together - and every night the physical tension grows more intense than it was the night before. They both know what is coming. It is as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. They are both hesitant to rush into the next phase of this relationship however. They are taking baby steps, waiting till the right moment. Nothing has been said aloud, but they both know it will be soon. It has to be soon. No mortal can survive this level of need for this long without release.

"You slept through," his voice is soft against her ear. She can hear his smile. He dips his head and nips lightly at the base of her throat. His touch is feather light. She shivers as his calloused fingers brush along her shoulder-blade.

"Yeah. It was glorious." She snuggles closer into his spoon, but stops abruptly when she feels his erection, proudly jutting against her hip. He doesn't move. He wants her to know what she does to him. He wants her to know just how much he needs her. They've gone through something like this every day, and every day they get closer to doing something about it. Today feels different. Maybe today is the day… Smiling, she nestles more deeply into his embrace.

He whispers into her ear, lightly scratching the lobe with his scruff, "You are mine, Charlotte. You are mine." She knows she should feel offended or defensive (and old Charlie would have), but this new incarnation of Charlie knows differently. She knows that Monroe is right. She belongs to him, and he to her. His touch becomes more determined, his fingers seek out new territory, and she feels heat course straight through her body as he slides his fingers slowly between her legs. She is so wet, and her core aches for Monroe to enter. Turning her face, Charlie angles her mouth against his. Moaning into the kiss, she struggles to maintain some semblance of calm, but she is losing that battle. His fingers are magic, and she is on the verge of shattering from the inside out, when they are interrupted by the sound of someone approaching.

"Mr. Bass! Mr. Bass" Timothy comes barging into the tent. The little bartender is a fixture around the camp and has proven to be very loyal to Monroe and Charlie both. He doesn't usually enter without announcing himself though. Both Charlie and Bass are immediately at attention – or as 'at attention' as two mostly naked and very aroused people can be at a moment's notice.

"What the hell?" Monroe growls at the little man who has barged into his space. His blue eyes are steely.

Timothy looks mildly chagrined, but doesn't back away. "I'm sorry Mr. Bass. Charlie." He nods to each in turn, ever the polite intruder. "A couple new guys just showed up. They are asking for you like they are old friends, but I don't think they are your friends. I told them nothing… didn't like the look of either one. They seem like trouble." He wrings his stumpy hands together nervously. "After they thought I'd left, I heard them talking. They mean you harm Mr. Bass. They want to kill you."

Monroe is pulling on his clothes, as is Charlie. "You stay here," he says to her. "I'll take care of this – whatever this is."

Her eyes flash. He sees Old Charlie in the fierceness of her stare. "Bullshit. I'm coming. There is no way in hell I'm losing you before we get to finish that" nodding toward the still warm cot, her face softens and she smiles knowingly at him.

He covers the distance between them in a heartbeat and sears her with those blue eyes she's come to love. He kisses her possessively. Timothy looks away. When the kiss ends, they are both breathless with desire once more. "Believe me Charlie; we will be finishing that very soon."

Soon, Bass and Charlie are busy sheathing swords and collecting guns and cross-bows readying for a fight. She looks at their little visitor. "Who are they Timothy? What do they look like? Did you get names?"

Timothy is nodding and shrugging at the same time. It's jarring, but typical weirdness for the guy. "There are two of them. I didn't get names, but the one is older and definitely in charge. The younger one might be his son. Couldn't tell for sure, but there is a resemblance. The older one might be calling the shots, but I got the feeling that the younger one is way crazy." He raises his brows and makes a funny noise in the back of his throat, "I've known my share of crazy. I know what it smells like. That young one reeks like batshit crazy sauce."

"Gotta be the Nevilles," Monroe mutters. "This should be all sorts of fun." He turns to her. Their eyes meet, his gaze is intense, "Charlotte, are you sure you're up for this kind of excitement? I can handle these two if you're not ready."

Charlie smiles coolly – meeting his stare without flinching. "I'm ready."

He holds her gaze, "But you and Jason... there is history there?" He's beating around the bush, but he needs to know for sure that she isn't going to go soft when he needs her to be stone cold Charlie. "We will have to hurt him and his Dad - maybe kill them both." He raises an eyebrow questioningly, "You sure you're up for that?"

"Jason and I do have a history. That's true." She frowns a little, "But you and I - we have a now. We have a tomorrow... hopefully a lot of them. History can't compete with our future, and if they are even considering hurting YOU, I will have no problem killing them both myself." Her voice is strong. Her gaze is direct. She is fully herself again - at least emotionally. She has only been training for the last few days, and he hopes she's up for the fight that is ahead of them. He knows better than to ask. She's not going to appreciate any more doubt on his part.

Even though he worries about her… even though the thought of losing her scares him more than death; he is relieved to see she has her old spark back. He wants to get this Neville business over and done with so that he can explore that spark much more thoroughly – hopefully without interruption. No, correction – there will be no interruptions, period. He'll make sure everyone knows they will die a painful death if anything or anyone gets in their way….

For now, Charlie and Bass have work to do. Timothy exits the tent, Charlie right behind him. Bass brings up the rear and smacks Charlie playfully on the ass. "Let's do this." They smile wickedly at each other, ready for whatever comes next as long as they are able to face it together.

* * *

The sun beats down on them as they walk carefully through the camp toward the battle they know is brewing. Timothy has told them where the duo are stationed. Of course it's that stupid bar – the same one where Charlie was attacked just several weeks before. There is a moment, a blip, where Charlie hesitates. This is the first time she's been back since that night. Ugly memories rush in but she pushes them off. Monroe is with her. They will conquer this just like they've done so many times before. A shiver runs down her spine, but he puts a hand on her shoulder – steadying her – and she pushes through the flash of fear. They ready their weapons, and enter the bar.

Tom Neville is sitting at a back table, facing the entrance when they walk through the door. In front of him sits an empty glass and a whiskey bottle. Standing, Tom smiles in greeting - as if he has been waiting on this reunion with great anticipation. He appears alone. He smiles and waves them over to his table. "Welcome General Monroe. Miss Matheson." They move closer but they don't sit. He shrugs before casually taking his place on the bench he'd stood from. "Miles and Rachel send their regards from Willoughby." His eyes are steely and mean.

Charlie feels a tightening in her chest. "Are they okay?" She asks before even thinking. Truthfully she's not even sure she cares if Rachel is alive and well; but Miles is a different story. Her heart would break if anything happened to him.

She doesn't even realize she's been holding her breath until he says, "Oh, they're fine… as fine as two love birds can be." Though not what she expected to hear, she is relieved – until his words hit home. "Lovebirds? Really? Well, I guess that was bound to happen sometime."

Bass breaks in, "What are you doing HERE?"

Tom smiles jovially, "Oh, well we're here to kill you, General." And with that, Tom pulls a gun from under the table and points it at Monroe's chest.

On cue, they hear a second gun cocking behind them, and Jason says, "Hey Charlie. It's been a while." Charlie glances at Bass and an unspoken agreement passes between them. Jason is looking at her like a starving man might ogle a steak. His hand appears shaky on the trigger as he slowly licks his lips, looking her up and down. Suddenly Charlie is overwhelmed by this awful place and the memories it holds and by this new threat of violation and death. Timothy was right. Jason is crazy Certainly he isn't the guy she once had feelings for. He's here to kill Monroe, and that is all the reason she needs to put him down. In one swift motion, she raises her cross bow and shoots Jason through the forehead. He crumples, dead to the floor, his gun tumbling loudly after him. Charlie turns from her kill, just in time to see Bass shoving a sword through a very surprised Tom Neville's heart. Guns or no guns, Tom Neville & his son are no match for a determined Bass Monroe and Charlie Matheson combo.

"That was sort of easy, even for us." Bass smiles at her, pulling his weapon from Tom's body with a sucking gush.

"Can we get out of here already?" Charlie is a little shaky, but she manages a wavering smile in return. They meet Timothy on the way out.

"Clean up in aisle four," Bass chuckles, laying his arm around Charlie's shoulders. The small man shrugs past the couple, and makes his way inside. He knows how to clean up messes like this. He's certainly done it before.


	5. Chapter 5

Some hours have passed since Tom and Jason Neville were buried in a shallow grave outside the camp's border. With that ugliness behind them, Bass and Charlie are discussing what their next step should be. Both agree that they will need to head to Willoughby soon. Charlie is well now. There is no more reason to stay here.

Even though the taste of victory is still fresh, Bass seems on edge. Clearly something is on his mind, "We should probably start out today or tomorrow. The trip should take us a few days if we get a wagon or horses. Miles and your Mom are probably pretty worried." He runs his hands through the tight curls on his scalp. He's avoiding eye contact with her, "We need to check on Connor and Duncan's men too. You know, see how everything is going with the Patriots. See if they need our help. See how your Grandpa is doing – hell, we need to make sure he's still on our damn side." Monroe laughs nervously at his attempt to joke, but recognizes he is rambling.

The problem is simple. Charlie is well now. It's a blessing. It's a curse. Now that the obstacles are gone, he's not sure how best to proceed. He knows what needs to come next, but hesitates.

She is sitting on the cot, looking at him with an amused expression on her face. She is now as relaxed as he is nervous. The tables have definitely turned. Charlie smiles crookedly and his pants are suddenly far too tight. There has been so much anticipation, so much longing, so much waiting; they had both come to terms with the tension. In some ways this last couples of weeks had become comfortable, even easy. Now though, the sands are shifting, the world is tilting; nothing is the way it was. Charlie feels good. She knows that she is ready, and Bass secretly thinks that the Neville business might have been the best thing that could have happened to her. Not only is she physically better, but she's got her confidence back too.

Charlie is well, and now nothing feels comfortable or easy. The tension is palpable.

"You're staring at me again." Charlie's eyes are sparkling. He has to restrain himself from just jumping her right then and there.

"Sorry." He chokes out, laughing nervously. This is very new to Monroe. He's not been nervous around a woman in decades. Turning away from her, Bass busies himself with something on the other side of the tent, but there is no escape from this revived, renewed, incredibly determined version of Charlie. She knows what she wants, and she has decided she doesn't want to wait anymore to get it.

She silently closes the space between them. Monroe feels her firm breasts push against his back and he exhales raggedly. Her hands slide around his stomach. He shivers at her touch, but he doesn't make a move. Fists clenched, he closes his eyes and waits. Her fingers stroke his belly. She slowly explores by touching and teasing the skin on his chest.

He wants to touch her too. He wants to drive her as crazy as she is making him, but he doesn't want to screw this up. He can't. He knows he doesn't deserve her to begin with, and he's deathly afraid that he'll do something wrong and she'll realize she can do better. Charlie is so different from the women who've come before her. She is amazing and beautiful and sexy and brave, and she loves him. In turn, he loves her – loves her in a way he never thought possible. He's never ever felt like this before. These new feelings scare him, but he can't help but feel happy as well. Charlie is amazing and he is sure that if he plays his cards right, she might just be his forever.

He thinks about Charlie's experiences in this camp. They came here right after her quickie with Connor (Bass tries not to dwell on that). Then there was that monster Boaz. Bass had saved her before she'd been raped, thank God, but she had still been violated in ways that were awful and wrong. Then she'd had to kill Jason, a guy she had once had feelings for. This awful place is not where he wants to start things with Charlie. Their first time together should be perfect, and it is hard for him to imagine that happening in a place that holds such ugly memories for them both. He needs to know that when they are together, she's thinking of him and him alone. He doubts they can truly escape her demons here.

He is as Impatient as she; but unfortunately he sees one more reason to wait just a little longer for that sweet release they both crave so much. They've somehow managed to linger here for two months. It is time to leave

Though it is the very last thing he wants to do, he carefully, lovingly moves Charlie's hands from his body. He turns, still holding her hands in his. Her expression is still amused, but now also somewhat wary. "What's wrong?" she asks, leaning close and tilting up to kiss his lips. He returns the kiss, but doesn't let it progress far.

"Charlie, nothing is wrong." His startling blue eyes stare into hers, "but it's not right either."

"What the hell? I thought…" She feels refused and betrayed, and her anger spikes. She pushes back from him, trying to pull her hands from his. He doesn't let go.

"Hey. Hey. Listen to me Charlotte." He's trying to get her attention. "It's not you. Not us. That's all good, so good." He squeezes her hands, "It's this place. This place is what is wrong." He motions toward the camp outside with his head, but never takes his eyes off hers. "The thing is - I want our first time together, to…" his eyes are looking into her very soul, "to not be HERE. I want it to be fresh and new and not mixed up with the awful memories that plague us here."

Images flood through Charlie's head. That retched bar. Boaz. The pain. Connor's sad face when he said goodbye. The Nevilles, and again that retched bar. There are good memories here too: the healing, the way she'd grown to know Monroe, to really know him, the nights spent cuddling and talking. There has been good here, but he's right. This place is not where the next chapter should be written.

A change of scenery is in order.

She relaxes, leaning into him again, "Okay, you're right. This isn't the best place for us." Her smile is back (though she's turned down the heat a few notches). "We've waited this long. We can wait a little longer." She is struggling to imagine how they might do that exactly, but knows they'll figure it out somehow. "All right Bass Monroe, now that you know I'm yours for the taking, wherever are you going to take me?" This play on words amuses and arouses them both, but when she presses lightly against him; she deposits only the faintest of kisses on his lips.

"I know a place." He hugs her to his chest, smiling now that this decision is behind them, "Let's get on the road as soon as possible."

* * *

"It's beautiful," she says reverently at the sight of the old Victorian house as it comes into view. Nestled among abandoned row houses and other long forgotten homes in a tiny country town (or what once was a town); it is the only building on the street that appears to have not suffered the effects of the hard years after the blackout. The house is white with light blue trim. She stares, grinning at the ornate woodwork and shiny windows. Charlie takes Monroe's hand when he offers it, and she lets him lead her toward this sweetly beautiful place.

"This is where we are staying?" She's grinning at him crookedly.

"Yeah," he smiles back – eyes sparkling. "What do you think?"

She leans into him, and kisses him thoroughly. "Oh Monroe, Is there any chance at all that they have a bath tub in this big beautiful house?"

He throws his head back and laughs. "Yeah, there's a chance." Bass slings his arm around Charlie's shoulders and they walk through the big oak door together.

After a brief encounter with a nice old woman at the front desk, they are lead to their room. It is more than Charlie could have ever hoped for. The wallpaper is green and white. The design is subtle and feminine. Filmy white curtains blow at each of three open windows. The four-poster bed is enormous – piled high with fluffy white bedding. A simple yellow quilt is folded at the foot of the bed. A long wooden table stands along one wall. On it sits a crystal vase full of coral roses. A pair of overstuffed chairs sits in one corner next to a small shelf neatly lined with liquor bottles. In another corner is the crème de résistance - a monster of a tub, complete with claw feet and brass fittings. Charlie's first thought at the sight of that tub is that it's big enough for a swim. She sighs at the decadence before her, "This is just what I always thought heaven might look like."

Monroe just grins at her. He's pleased that she's pleased. He feels relief, followed by a hum of anticipation.

Turning to him, Charlie leans into Bass. As she does so, she catches a glimpse of herself in a full length mirror on the far wall. "Oh hell," she mutters. "Bath first. Everything else – and there will be a lot…" Smiling, she presses her lips to his, but only for a moment. "Everything else comes later. Right now, I have a date with a bar of soap and some hot water."

"This date you're having…" his lips are leaving a trail of kisses down her throat. "This date – do you and your bar of soap need a chaperone, by any chance?"

Charlie closes her eyes and arches her neck back, offering Monroe better access, "Oh yes. Yes we do."

A knock at the door signals the arrival of the hot water Bass had requested at check in. Three teenage boys come into the room. Each one is carrying two five gallon buckets full of steaming water. They dump most of the buckets into the tub. They leave sponges, soap, towels and two buckets of the water near the tub for rinsing. They leave, never having uttered a word or making eye contact.

"They used to call this sort of thing 'Room Service'", Monroe's voice is seductive and throaty.

"I think I'm going to love room service," she keeps her eyes on his. Unspoken agreement passes between them. They are ready for this.

Standing so close that they can hear each other's heart beats and shallow breathing; Bass moves first. Slowly he pulls the tank top over Charlie's head, baring her upper body. He slowly worships her with his hands. His touch is feather light as his fingers trace circles along her shoulders. He moves his attention to her collar-bone, and then he cups her perfect breasts through the flimsy fabric of her bra. He squeezes them gently. His mouth follows the trails blazed by his fingers. She shivers at his touch. Her bra falls away. She needs him now. Moaning softly, she reaches out, fumbling for the buckle on his pants. He takes her queue and pulls off his own shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his chest. She finds his zipper, and then gently moves his pants down, releasing his erection. She touches his hard cock tentatively at first, before firmly stroking his shaft. Her touch becomes firmer. She moves to kiss his chest. Her hands are still wrapped around his cock as she strokes him. Her lips leave a trail of wet kisses as she moves from his chest southward. She is squeezing, stroking and readying to take him into her mouth when he cries out, "Charlie!" He pulls her up to him, and in a moment he is devouring her mouth with his own, while yanking at her jeans urgently. He is suddenly a desperate man, never having needed anything this much. He wants her, but he pauses. Shakily, Bass takes a deep breath and softly whispers into her ear, "bath".

She nods. They step out of the remaining clothes and slide into the hot water. They don't speak.

Monroe stakes his claim on one end of the tub, leaning back against the high back. He motions for her to sit in front of him. She carefully settles between his legs, facing away from him. He pulls her back against his chest. He is hot and hard against her back. She moans at the feel of him. Bass leans in and whispers, "I want you to relax while I take care of you." She sighs and he picks up one of the big sponges, lathering it up with the bar of soap. He takes the soapy sponge and first presses it gently to her throat. He starts there, washing her flesh reverently, worshipfully. He takes his time, not missing an inch of her quivering skin. When he decides her body is clean, he washes her hair. As his fingers massage her scalp she moans; amazed at how erotic that experience proves to be. He pours some fresh water over her head to rinse. She is cleaner than she's felt in years.

"Your turn," she says to him and turns around to face him, straddling his legs in the water. Her long wet hair clings to her body like wet snakes. Water drips from her breasts. She is grinning at the way he takes in every detail. She reaches for the same sponge, and after renewing the soap – begins to wash his hard chest and arms. She soaps his abs and teases his nipples and is working the sponge farther south when he groans loudly. He pushes it aside and pulls her close. "Charlotte, please" he says quietly. "Please."

Understanding that their time has finally come, she leans in for a kiss. His tongue tangles with hers. She bites lightly at his lip. The kiss deepens and he grasps her hips firmly. She takes one hand and reaches down for him. As he pulls her hips even closer, she guides his rigid cock home. She slowly begins to ride him, careful at first not to splash too much of the water onto the floor. The friction under water is intense. Monroe feels like his whole world is spinning. Burying his cock in Charlie feels like nothing he's experienced before. She is tight and so hot. She sheathes him like a sword, every motion proves she is his missing piece. They are a perfect fit. He looks at her face and sees she has closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation.

"Open your eyes Charlie," his voice is hoarse with need. "I want you to look at me." She opens her eyes. They are hazy with desire. Her pupils are dilated. "Look at me Charlie. Say my name."

"Bass", she moans softly – staring into his blue eyes as they move together, in synch with each other's needs.

"Say it again," he growls. He's close.

"Bass." her rhythm is escalating, as is her volume, "Bass." To hell with water on the floor - she doesn't care anymore. She only cares about looking into those eyes and saying his name, "Bass..."

He grabs her hips and slams her down onto his cock as hard as he can, impaling her with his heat, "Say it again!" He demands.

"Bass Monroe!" Her body explodes in orgasm. When Bass feels her vaginal walls contracting and pulsing around his cock; he follows her over the edge. He tenses for a moment and then with a cry, he releases into her depths, Charlie's tight core milks him dry as her orgasm subsides.

She collapses on top of him. They are both panting and shaky and very wet.

He looks at her, his expression a mix of adoration, exhaustion and contentment. "Wow, Charlie. Just... wow."

She grins tiredly and says, "Yeah, that pretty amazing - definitely worth the wait." She nuzzles his neck, "not that we will ever wait that long again." They both laugh before easing out of the tub. Tenderly they dry each other's bodies with thick white towels before climbing naked into the wonders of fresh linen that await.

Both are sure they will be ready for round two in no time, but when they snuggle into the soft luxury of this bed they've rented for the night; they quickly discover that sleep can be just as tempting as a tub.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie sleeps soundly. Her naked body is cradled by the amazing cloud of a bed. Though she isn't yet aware, Bass is awake. He's propped up on one elbow just watching her. He's been like this for over an hour. He can't get enough of her. He's soaking it all in: the way her hair looks - tousled on the pillow like a halo around her head… the way she smells – which this morning is an amazing combination of soap and sex… the way she sounds – every breath soft and quiet. His eyes wander over her every exposed curve – from the strong chin to the swell of her perfect breasts to the hollow of her belly. She is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She is the most amazing woman he's ever met. She is the only one he wants. She is his everything. She is his love.

He is struck by abject fear at the thought of losing her.

She stretches in her sleep, and Bass thinks she's starting to come around. Charlie languidly reaches both hands above her head. This angle changes the shape of her breasts and he has to stop himself from leaning over to worship them with his mouth. He doesn't want to startle her awake, but he is sorely tempted. Instead, he changes his focus from her chest as his eyes slowly follow the long lean arms, muscled yet feminine. And then he sees that Monroe Republic brand on her wrist and his thoughts change course. His brand. Of course he's known it was there. He's seen it before, but still it tears him up inside that he was responsible for marking her in that way- for ever hurting her at all. He glances at the scarred flesh on his own wrist and frowns darkly. They are a matched set. Even if she can forget everything else; how can she ever look at that "M" on her wrist and not feel angry and resentful for what his men had done to her on his behalf? True, he hadn't known it was happening at the time. The brand was just part of the procedure. Still – he feels overwhelmed by regret.

"It doesn't bother me anymore." Charlie's voice is soft. She had woke up without him realizing and had noticed immediately what held his attention. She had also noticed the dark anger in his eyes. "It did bother me at first." She pauses, "but now I really don't care." Charlie reaches for him and softly strokes his cheek with her palm.

His eyes are hard and they bore into hers, "How can you not care?" he shakes his head. "How can you ever forgive me for this?" he gestures to her wrist. "For Ben, for Danny? For all of it?" He sits up and starts to climb out of bed, but she stops him.

"I don't think it's a matter of forgiving you." Her voice is quiet but firm. "It was more about spreading the blame around appropriately."

He looks up at her with a question in his eyes, but he doesn't speak. He lets her continue, knowing that she needs to get this off her chest as much as he needs to hear it.

"When you sent Neville and those men to get my Dad, you wanted them to bring him to you alive, right?"

He nods.

"They only killed him because Danny and a couple of the other villagers got worked up and forced a fight. Dad just got caught in the middle. If Danny and the others would have done as my Dad asked, things would have been different." She sits and pulls the sheet up to cover her nakedness. This is a time for baring her soul, but the baring of other things should wait. This needs to be discussed. "Danny died fighting your men. That's true, but it wasn't you shooting at him from that helicopter, and there would have been no helicopter if my Mom would have said no to you, and not built that amplifier. Some idiots who worked for you did this," she holds out her wrist. Frowning, she looks down, no longer meeting his gaze. "It's not that you are innocent. You aren't, obviously. It's that I choose to think about it realistically. Everything that happened happened for a bunch of reasons. Are you responsible? Sure. Are you the only one responsible? Not at all."

Their eyes meet, gazes locking for a long moment.

Charlie smiles at Bass sadly. "What matters to me is that you have been there for me when I really needed you. You have loved me. You have saved me." She reaches out and takes his hand in hers, moving in a way that matches up the "M"s on their wrists. "You are always saving me."

He weakly smiles back. "I want to believe that we can get past all that, I really do. God Charlotte, I'm so sorry. For all of it."

"Stop apologizing. I know you are sorry, and that's another reason that I can let it go. Don't get me wrong. I really, really hated you. I hated you so much that I was determined to kill your sorry ass." Her eyes are sparkling now, "but then I spent time with you – at first because I had to, and then because it seemed like you could be useful." Charlie chuckles. "over time I came to see how complex you are. I got to know the Bass that had always been Miles' best friend. I met the Bass that can be funny and sarcastic and clever. I saw how loyal you are when it really matters. And then there is the other thing."

"What other thing is that?" he asks smiling.

"Eventually I realized that you were just sexy as hell, and I couldn't stop thinking about you." She laughs.

"Yeah?" he likes the sound of this.

"Yeah." She scoots closer to his side. "When we had to watch you be executed – that's when I realized I didn't hate you anymore."

He grins, "I remember you looking down on me in that bed, after. You were being kind of sweet."

"That was probably just the drugs making you see something that wasn't there." Charlie leans back and laughs, "I didn't like you yet. I just didn't hate you anymore."

"So, when did you decide you more than 'didn't hate' me?" He's leaning into her now, his voice just a whisper near her ear.

Charlie doesn't hesitate. "It was when we saw Duncan in New Vegas. I think I knew deep down before that – maybe something started to brew when we were in that old school and you came back for me - but seeing the history between you and Duncan, and feeling that she might be a threat to you… well, it just hit me. It hit me hard."

"I gotta say, I do wish you'd figured it out before sleeping with my son." He regrets the words before they're even fully out, but she doesn't take offence.

"Yeah, me too." She kisses him then. It's a soft kiss. It's a deeply emotional kiss. It's the kind of kiss that love songs are written about. Neither ever wants it to end.

They fall onto the sheets and slowly begin to touch and explore. This is still so new. Every caress is ecstasy. There is still so much for them to learn about each other and they both want to learn it all. The future is unknown, but they know that – convenient or not – this is the real thing. Charlie and Monroe are in love. They move together carefully, and when he sinks into her this time it is without the urgency of the night before. He is taking her. He is showing her that he will always be there for her. He is worshipping her. His love for her shines through those bright blue eyes as he thrusts into her slowly. She in turn, is letting him take control. She is handing him the reigns (for now at least). She is showing him forgiveness. She is showing him how much she loves him.

Together they explode into each other. This is how it should be - forever.

* * *

Somewhere near Willoughby...

"Aren't they ever going to leave?" Dr. Gene Porter nods toward the group of rough looking guys around a nearby table. His question is aimed at Miles. Miles has been hearing this same question from Gene at least five times a day ever since the Patriots retreated from their hold on Willoughby a couple weeks back. The men in question are mercenaries, hired by Monroe and Connor in New Vegas. These hoodlums had been invaluable in the fight – essential to the victory over those US guys; and it is for this reason that Miles doesn't badger them about their plans to go home.

Since he still doesn't have an answer for the question, he ignores it once again. "How is Connor?"

The doctor shrugs. "He's doing a lot better actually. He's still in some pain, and he's going to have some serious scars from the burns. He'll live. He's a fighter."

"That's good. Wasn't sure about that kid at first, but he's been growing on me – would hate to lose him now that I'm getting used to having him around."

"Speaking of having people around," Gene takes a drink from his glass, "Have you heard when Charlie is coming back? I miss her."

"Yeah we all miss Charlie. Connor didn't have a chance to tell us much before the fighting started, and then he got hurt so I don't know a lot." Miles shrugs, "He did say that Bass is with her and that she's safe."

"Ha." Gene scoffs.

Miles frowns at Gene, "You don't have to like Bass, but I can assure you he would never hurt Charlie. Hell, he's saved her life on several occasions, and he knows she's…" he pauses, "Bass knows that Charlie is very special to me. They'll get here when they get here."

"Does he know the whole truth? Does he know just how special she is to you?" Gene questions with one brow raised.

"You mean, does Bass know I'm her real Dad? Yeah, he's known about that for just about as long as I have. That's why I trust him to keep her safe."

* * *

Bass and Charlie are back in the wagon, and well on their way to Willoughby, albeit almost two months behind schedule. It had been so difficult to leave that lovely rooming house. They had stayed there two glorious nights. It was finally guilt that spurned them on.

"Miles has to be getting worried." Bass isn't sure how things are between him and his oldest friend right now. He knows though, that whatever the current state of their relationship – when Miles finds out about the things that have evolved between Bass and Charlie – all bets will be off.

They mostly ride in silence. Now and then their eyes meet and they find that they can't help but grin at each other like kids. Sometimes they hold hands and Monroe is struck by just how comforting and sensual and intimate such a small thing can be. "I don't remember the last time I held hands. This is nice."

Charlie laughs, "Look at that! Bass Monroe – former evil dictator has a surprisingly soft side under that crusty exterior." She sees a flash of uncertainty cross his features, and she squeezes his hand reassuringly. "Hey Bass, this is the kind of stuff we're going to be hearing. We might as well get used to it. There isn't going to be room for thin skin if this," she motions between them with her free hand, "If this is going to work."

He nods. "I'll grow thicker skin. I want this to work."

"Me too." Her smile is wide, her eyes dancing. Bass feels his heart beat escalate as he grasps her hand in his. He has never been happier, but ever the realist; he knows from experience that happiness rarely is allowed to last long. This feels so perfect, but Monroe wonders when the other shoe will drop. Sighing, he tries to shake the looming dread, but he fails miserably when just moments later they pass the '10 miles to Willoughby" sign.

Monroe groans at the reminder of what's coming next. It's time to face Miles. Bass doesn't know how this is going to play out, but he has a hard time imagining that Miles will be accepting of his relationship with Charlie – at least not at first. And then there is Rachel. The thought of Rachel makes his blood go cold. She will probably kill him.

"Oh hell. Your Mom is going to be so pissed."

Charlie laughs nervously. They continue down the road – still holding hands, but now their smiles have faded. Each are lost in thought, pondering what waits for them in Willoughby.

* * *

After the chat he'd had with Gene, Miles decides to pay Connor a visit. He is still staying in the infirmary, but at least he is now able to get up a little. Connor had proven to be a very valuable ally indeed when the fighting had begun. From almost the very beginning of the battle, Connor had shown time and again that he was his father's son. Brave and strong and never tempted to back down; he and Miles had fought side by side with Rachel and the hired killers from New Vegas. It had taken almost a week before the worst of the fighting was over. The end was in sight when Connor walked into a trap and was injured by a pipe bomb. His left side from shoulder to knee was burned pretty badly. Luckily Gene had some heavy duty antibiotics he'd been saving for a rainy day. "It doesn't get much rainier than this," Gene had muttered as he dressed Connor's wounds with salve and soft bandages.

"Hey Kid," Miles could see Connor standing stiffly in front of a window on the far side of the hospital room. He is staring out, lost in thought. "How are you doing?"

Connor turns to face Miles, and shrugs his right shoulder, "Doing better. Still tender, but feeling stronger every day."

"I'm glad to hear that," Miles replies. He smiles at the younger man awkwardly. They aren't really friends yet, but both are trying.

Connor finds himself asking the first question that pops into his head, "Monroe and Charlie back yet?" As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets opening this particular can of worms.

"No," Miles says, "but I'm glad you brought them up. I've been meaning to ask you for more details. You mentioned they were delayed but didn't say by what?"

"I think it will be better if they tell you themselves." Connor's jaw is set stubbornly. He is not going to say another word.

"Well that doesn't bode well," Miles mutters before saying goodbye and heading for the door. Maybe it's time he goes out looking for them.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun is setting as they first catch glimpse of the walls around Willoughby. "Let's find a place to sleep." Bass says. "I'm in no mood to face the music just yet."

Relieved, Charlie nods. "Good. That's good." She relaxes into her seat a little. Knowing for sure that they don't have to talk to Rachel tonight allows her to relax for the first time in hours. She's not ready for that particular confrontation just yet. She looks over at Monroe. He also seems more relaxed. He's looking around, probably trying to find a good spot to stop for the night.

An idea strikes Charlie, "What about the house?"

"The one you all had outside of town? Where I stayed in after the execution? Is that a safe place?" He raises one brow questioningly.

"Well, I'm not sure, but I bet it is." Charlie shrugs. "We've all been gone for months. Mom and Miles and Aaron are laying low. The place has probably been empty ever since they moved on. It's at least worth a look. Who would think to look for us there?"

Monroe nods thoughtfully, "Allright, the house it is."

They scope out the place carefully. Charlie was right. It is deserted. Charlie grabs their packs and heads in while Bass parks the wagon in an old barn, and tends to the horses.

He mounts the steps and walks through the front door quietly. He sees the candles first. There aren't a ton of them, but there are enough to lead the way to wherever it is Charlie wants him to go. He smiles to himself. This relationship is still brand new, but he has a feeling that Charlie will always find ways to surprise him.

Walking up the stairs, he follows the trail of candles. Soon he also sees a tank top. Farther down the hall he almost trips over her jeans. They are haphazardly thrown on the floor. His smile turns into a grin. It looks like she's eager for some attention from Monroe, and he is only too happy to oblige. He's ready. This whole day has been one teasing glance after another. Now that he knows her touch, her taste, the way she moans when he's moving inside of her – he can think of little else. She consumes him. He's ready for what is coming next, but still his breath catches in surprise when he opens the final door.

She is standing tall and very naked in the middle of the room next to a tired looking bed. A lone candle burns on a bedside table. She is grinning at him in the shadows. He moves as soon as he remembers how to, and crosses the floor to stand before her. At first they just stand there, not touching, not speaking. Their eyes are locked, and the candlelight flickers all around them, setting the stage. He leans closer, dips his head to hers and stops just shy of her lips; their combined breath is all that separates them from each other.

"God, I could get used to this," he growls before ravaging her mouth. His hands reach up and grasp at her hair. She responds to his touch with a fierce need of her own. She begins to pull at his clothes, greedily touching every bit of his skin as it is exposed. She breaks away from the kiss, and moves her lips to his throat. She kisses him softly, finding a spot she likes – she begins to suck gently on the skin. She wants to leave her mark on him. Satisfied with what she has done, she moves slowly down to his chest. He senses that she needs to do her thing so he doesn't get in her way. She tongues one nipple and then the other. She can feel his heart racing. His flesh glistens with sweat. She tastes the salty tang on her tongue as she lowers to her knees. She looks up at him, holding his eyes with her own as she begins to unbuckle his belt. He groans as she opens his fly and releases his girth. Still maintaining eye contact, she takes him in hand and begins to firmly stroke his length. She loves the feel of him in her fist – all hard and smooth and pulsing with need. Need for her. She lowers her lips to him. She licks the head of his cock and then takes him fully into her mouth. She firmly wraps her lips around him, using her tongue for leverage, she takes him deeper into her throat. Charlie pulls at his root as she sucks. Lowly she begins to hum. He's watching her suck, his eyes are hooded with passion. He buries his hands in her hair; now and then he pulls her closer, fucking her mouth. She doesn't object. She just takes him deep and sucks and hums and with her free hand she begins to lightly touch his balls. She feels him tense, his balls constrict. He cries out, "Jesus Charlotte!" as he spurts ropes of cum into her throat. She looks up and meets his eyes as she drains him.

Charlie stands and leans into Monroe. She can feel that the tension has drained from his body. He is all zen and she laughs at him a little. "So, was that okay?"

His voice is husky, "Charlie, that was way more than okay." He kisses her and tastes himself on her lips. Effortlessly, he picks her up and carries her to the bed. He lays her in its center carefully, as if she is the most fragile being on Earth. Slowly Bass lowers himself over her and hungrily kisses her lips again and again. He cannot get enough of this woman. He will never be able to get enough of her. He worships her in the candlelight. His hands run up and down her body with feather like caresses. Each touch sends shivers down her spine. She is beyond ready for release, but he wants to hold her off a little longer. He moves to her breasts. He cups one and uses his mouth on the other. She moans as he moves lower. His tongue finds her belly button and he flicks it while using his hands to move her thighs apart.

His fingers dip into her silk, and he strokes them in and out of her wet core. All the while he watches her. She is arching her back, her fists are clenching the sheets. Almost frantic now, she begins to buck against his hand. Aching for him to finish her, she cries out, "Please Bass Please."

Bass smiles before dipping to taste Charlie's heat. He licks her sweet wetness, fingers still buried inside. He feels her beginning to contract with orgasm, and knowing how close she is he begins to suck on her clit in earnest. She comes in a shattering climax, her satisfied cry echoes off the walls.

Panting, she lays spent on the crumpled sheets. He moves back up to her side and whispers in her ear, "I want this to be my job." She can hear the smile in his voice, she can also hear the renewed heat, "Giving you orgasms is going to be my new career. I want to make you feel like this every day for the rest of our lives."

"Mmmm" she moans softly as his hand moves again to touch her. Her nerve endings are still raw from the first orgasm, but she still feels an unexpected stirring within. Charlie looks up at him in surprise, "Again?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes, again," he whispers, pushing his rigid cock against her leg.

Charlie laughs, "I'm impressed. I figured an old guy like you wouldn't be able to repeat so… quickly."

He chuckles at her teasing. "Old guy, huh?" He dips his head to kiss her earlobe. "you are so going to pay for saying that."

And she does pay. She pays for teasing him until they are both too exhausted to keep their eyes open.

Eventually sleep takes them; their bodies entwined in dreamless slumber.

* * *

Miles had watched them drive up to the farm-house from his vantage point in a nearby grove of trees. He'd been out scouting, not really sure he'd find anything at all. He'd only wandered to the area around the old house out of habit. He still checked on the place now and then. He'd noticed the wagon as soon as it pulled into view and had also immediately recognized the two people sitting in it. At first his instinct was to walk right up and say hello, but for some reason he hesitated. He couldn't put his finger on it at first, but something was up. Something was different. Then he saw it – the something different. It was a look that passed between them. A look that told Miles these two had become close. Very close. Clearly this relationship had escalated quickly. Miles' heart hammered in his chest. His vision blurred. How could he? How could Bass touch Charlie? Miles started their way, but stopped cold when he heard Charlie's laugh. He lifted his rifle and looked through the scope.

Charlie popped into focus – clear as day and as beautiful as ever. She was smiling – grinning really. She was smiling up at Bass, and Bass was smiling down at her. They didn't look like enemies. They didn't look like lost souls out for a meaningless pick up. In fact, he didn't remember seeing that expression on Monroe's face since he had been with Shelly. Miles knew that look. He knew the real deal when he saw it. He was still mad, but the worst of his anger drained away. Somehow, some way his best friend had fallen in love with his daughter. It appeared that the feeling was mutual.

"Damn." He swore, "How in the hell am I going to break this to Rachel?" Sitting down at the base of the closest tree, he pulled out his flask and took a drag. He needed to think. He needed to give those two some space. Lord knows he didn't want to walk in on anything that he didn't need to see.

* * *

Bass wakes leisurely. His body is a big gooey mess of satisfaction and contentment. He is grinning before he even opens his eyes. Charlie is stirring at his side and he leans over to kiss her. God, how he loves her. Their mouths tangle sleepily, and she moans into the kiss.

Without warning he freezes. "Coffee." He mutters quietly.

"Really? Coffee? That's all you can think of?" she mocked him.

"Charlie, COFFEE." He motions toward the door. "Don't you smell it?"

All color drains from Charlie's face. She does smell it. Wafting up the stairs is the unmistakable fragrance of coffee. Coffee and…"

"Bacon," they both say at once.

"Who the hell is down there?" She whispers harshly. They are both pulling on clothes as quickly as they can. Unfortunately Charlie finds that in her effort to leave Bass a trail the night before, she had lost most of her clothes. "Damn it," she says. "My pants are out there!"

"This just gets better and better. Maybe you should stay here." He is getting ready to say something more when they hear a voice calling from below.

"Come on down guys. Breakfast."

"Oh hell no. It's Miles." All color drains from Monroe' face. This is it. He pulls Charlie close and gives her a deep - albeit brief - kiss. "Miles is going to kill me now, so I just wanted to get in one more before I die." She thinks he's teasing, but she's not totally sure.

Squaring her shoulders, Charlie (who is not wearing any pants), says "Let's get this over with." And marches bravely to the door.

Bass follows. He can't help but admire the view. Impending death or no, he can not get enough of this woman.


	8. Chapter 8

After leaving the room where they'd stayed for the night, Charlie and Bass begin to make their way down the hall. Charlie immediately sees her missing clothes. They are folded and stacked neatly next to the stairs. Monroe pauses with her, waiting while she yanks on her jeans.

They go down the stairs.

They are both nervous about confronting Miles. Monroe volunteers to go in first and break the ice. After all, he's known Miles his whole life. They have a connection. They are best friends. He's confident they'll get through this. Motioning for Charlie to stay put, he walks into the kitchen alone, "Damn that smells good, Brother. Where in the hell did you get coffee?"

Miles says nothing. His jaw is set in a hard line. He is sitting on the far side of a large kitchen table. On the table sits a big plate of bacon and a coffee pot. He offers Bass a chipped cup with "Derry Maine" printed on one side in red letters. Steam rises lazily from within and the smell is intoxicating. Bass takes a seat across from Miles, "God I've missed this," he says as he raises the cup to his lips. Taking a dreamy sip, he immediately spits it out. "Damn Miles, what the hell IS that?" he sputters. "It sure as hell is NOT coffee."

"Well, it WAS coffee at one time," Miles is cracking a bit of a smile now. It's not a big one and it doesn't yet reach his eyes, but Bass sees this as a good sign. "I found it under the sink, behind some old Drano. Gotta be older than the blackout."

"Tasty," Bass says sarcastically. "Thanks." Carefully, Monroe sits his still full cup on the table.

Miles shrugs. "I had a lot of time to kill while I waited for you guys to wake up, so I poked around." He points a finger at Monroe "And don't call me 'Brother' Bass. I'm not in the mood. "

Bass nods. "Got it MILES. I suppose you do want to talk though."

"What I really want to do is beat you to death with this coffee pot, you ass, but we can start with talking." He takes a deep breath; "I cannot believe you and Charlie are…" he stops, finding that he just can't bring himself to say it.

"Together? Soul mates? In love?" Monroe suggests helpfully. He grins at his old buddy like a little kid on Christmas morning. Even though the anger is coming off Miles in waves, Bass is unapologetic. He can't shake the happiness that he's found with Charlie. He only hopes Miles will eventually be able to see it for what it is.

Miles shakes his head as if to move unsavory thoughts from it, "Don't say that. There is no way you are in love. That is just not possible." He's frowning, "also it's kind of gross. You're old enough to be her…"

"Father?" Charlie comes into the room then. She walks over to Miles and gives him an awkward hug before snagging a strip of bacon from the plate and moving to Monroe's side. "Yeah, he's old enough to be my father, but then - so are you." Her eyes bore into him.

And in that moment, Miles sees that Charlie knows the truth. "Hell Bass, you TOLD her?"

Charlie looks at Bass angrily, "YOU knew?"

Monroe looks at both Mathesons nervously, and raises his hands in a defensive gesture. "First," he looks to Miles, "No. I've never told anyone your secret. Not one person, ever. Rachel doesn't even know that I know." And secondly, he turns his attention to Charlie, "It wasn't my place to say anything so I didn't. End of story."

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Miles breaks the silence. "Alright Charlie, how long have you known?"

"Well, I knew that my Dad wasn't you know –really my dad for about three years before he died. I overheard a conversation between him and Maggie. They thought I was asleep, and they talked about it. No details really. They never said who my Dad really was, just that it wasn't him." Charlie shrugs, "I didn't figure out it was you though, not for a long time. After we met, everyone kept telling me we were alike. And then one day I saw you talking to Mom and I just sort of knew."

Miles leans heavily against the table that separates him from Bass and Charlie. "I'm sorry Kid. I never ever wanted to hurt you."

Charlie smiles at him, "Hey, I'm not hurt. I can't complain – not about that anyway. Ben was my Dad, even if he wasn't. He was a really good Dad."

"That's right. He was a great Dad, and he was your Dad in all the ways that matter. I owe him a hell of a lot."

"I'm guessing," Monroe says softly, "that Ben would say he's the one who owes you." Miles sees the sincerity in his friend's face and struggles for just a moment to regain composure.

Miles clears his throat, and runs one hand through already ruffled hair. "Listen, this is a conversation that should wait till Rachel can join. Right now, we need to talk about this." He motions back and forth between them.

"What do you want to know, Dad?" Charlie teases. She and Monroe share a relieved glance. Somehow not only has Miles not tried to kill them; he's also been fairly reasonable so far. This is a good sign.

Miles is shaking his head, "Don't call me that, Kid. I'm Miles to you. Anything else would just be… weird."

"Okay MILES, what do you want to know?"

"Well, the last time I saw you guys – you were headed off to New Vegas with Connor. You two were barely talking to each other. You definitely were not giving off any kind of sexy vibes…" he pauses, before continuing. "Either you were both very good at hiding your feelings or you didn't have them yet."

"Sexy vibes? What would those look like exactly?" Monroe is smiling, but the smile fades when he sees Miles' anger bubbling just under the surface. "Okay, okay. Cliffs' Notes version is something like this… Vegas went okay, but it wasn't perfect. After we left we camped out in that little settlement near the old Nevada border. You remember the one?" When Miles nods, Bass continues, "While we were there Charlie had an… altercation with some bad guys. Connor and I were able to take care of those guys and we took her away from there…"

"But I was pretty messed up," Charlie busts in. "Bass took care of me. He nursed me back to health." She's looking at Monroe now and her feelings for him are clear. "That's why we were held up for all those weeks."

"You're okay now?" Miles is clearly very concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm totally fine."

Miles looks at Bass, really looks at him. "God-damn it Bass, if you hurt her I will skin you alive."

"I will never hurt her. You have my word." He looks over at Charlie and she returns his gaze. For a moment they are lost in each other's eyes – Miles momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, for the love of God, are you guys holding hands?" Miles is incredulous, shaking his head at both of them. "What's next? Are you going to loan her your letter jacket?"

"What?" Monroe asks mischievously, raising Charlie's hand to his mouth for a kiss, "what are you talking about?"

"I need some air." Miles slams the door as he leaves the farm house.


	9. Chapter 9

Connor has been stuck in this hospital room for weeks. He is totally stir crazy. Dr. Porter and Rachel have been great, and he doesn't think he can ever repay them. His burns are still healing, but the worst is behind him. Selfishly he's glad that the burns from the bombing were isolated to his chest and back. Chicks dig scars, sure… but probably not the kind he might have had if his head had taken the hit.

"Are you ready to get out of here Connor?" Rachel enters for her daily visit. Though an unlikely duo, they have become almost friends. In the beginning, she had visited him out of guilt. After all, he had been protecting her when the bomb went off that had burnt him so badly. Gradually she had started to look at him in a maternal way – she worried over him and helped Gene to tend his wounds. Connor was Monroe's kid, and Rachel would never forget that, but she no longer held it against him. In some ways the time spent with Connor was helping her deal with the grief of losing Danny. Nothing and nobody could ever take his place, but somehow being around another young man who needed her… well it was helping.

"Hi Rachel," Connor's smile is welcoming. "Yes, I am more than ready. You guys releasing me finally?"

"Yep. Dad said I could be the one to give you the good news." She returns his smile, "You have really bounced back. There will always be scars, and you still have healing to do; but at least we were able to avoid any infections or other complications."

"So I can leave?" his smile is somehow both hopeful and sad.

"Yeah," Rachel sits next to him and puts a comforting hand over his. "What's wrong?"

"Where do I go next? My Dad isn't back yet. I don't have a home here. The fighting is over in this area so I don't have a base to go to. I can't go back to Mexico. I want to get out of here believe me; I just wish I knew what comes next."

Rachel squares her shoulders and meets his gaze head on. "You'll stay with Miles and me. We have plenty of room. Once your Dad returns you two can come up with a different plan."

He is clearly touched by this gesture. He has grown to appreciate Rachel. She is nothing like his own Mom, but she has been taking care of him and he definitely feels safe and comforted when she is around. "Okay. If you are sure it's okay with Miles."

She shrugs. "He'll be fine with it. I'll make sure of that. You can stay for as long as you want."

* * *

Miles gets to the two story brick house near the heart of Willoughby where he, Rachel and Gene have been staying since the Patriots had retreated a month before. It is not fancy, but it is comfortable and fairly easy to defend as it sits on the top of a hill. It's not perfect, but it has served this trio well.

He walks in and is surprised to see Connor and Rachel talking on the couch. From the kitchen comes both the aroma of beef stew and Gene's off key singing. "Hi" he says.

Rachel jumps up and comes over to Miles. She presses her lips against his and his heart jumps. It amazes him every day just how little his feelings for her have changed over the years. In spite of everything, he is sure he loves her even more. He returns her kiss before breaking away to face Connor, "So they finally sprung you?"

Connor nods, "Yeah. Pretty glad too. Was starting to go crazy being cooped up like that."

"What are you going to do next?" Miles asks him.

Rachel breaks in, "He's going to stay here. I invited him to stay with us until he comes up with a different plan." She smiles up at Miles, hoping for a positive response.

"Well," Miles says slowly, "it's going to be crowded, but we can make it work."

"Crowded?" Rachel's expression is curious.

"Yeah, Charlie and Bass are back in town. I told them they could both stay here with us for a while."

"Okay, um" Rachel pauses clearly trying to work out a plan in her head."

As if on cue, the door behind Miles opens and in walks Charlie and Bass. They had talked with Miles on the way to the house and agreed not to flaunt their new relationship for the time being. Nobody knows what to expect after Rachel learns the truth. No need to rush into it.

"Charlie!" Rachel cries out. Things have been hit or miss between them for a long time, but she's still happy to see her daughter.

"Hi Mom." She hugs Rachel back. The hug ends and Rachel squares her shoulders, ready to face Monroe; but he's noticed his son sitting on the couch and has moved right past her.

"Hey Connor!" Monroe plops down next to Connor, "How are you?" Connor begins to update his Dad on the fights with the Patriots, his injuries and other details. They are deep in conversation, oblivious to the others in the room.

Rachel is still thinking about where everyone should stay. "I guess," she says, "Monroe and Connor can have that room over the garage. Charlie can sleep on the couch. When Aaron and Priscilla get here, they can have the hide-away sofa in the office. That should work fine, right?"

Miles looks at her. He's not exactly sure what to say. "Bass might not want to share a room with Connor" is all he can come up with. They now have the attention of all three house guests.

"Why not? Is Bass planning to have some late night visitors? Can't he control himself while he's here?" Rachel is disgusted; assuming that whoring is the only reason Monroe would need his own room.

Connor looks from Charlie to his Dad. They are looking at each other, silently agreeing to…something. Connor groans, "Oh this isn't going to be awkward at all."

"What?" asks Rachel.

Miles is also watching the way Charlie and Bass are staring at each other, and he's noticed that Connor is squirming. Something is up. When Connor says something about the situation being awkward, Miles has an epiphany. "Oh hell Connor, You too?"

"What? Connor too, what?" Rachel is becoming very irritated, feeling that she is the only one not in on the joke.

Connor sees the death stare that Miles is shooting at him, and he stands up from his perch on the couch. Once on his feet, he looks up in surprise to see that Miles has crossed the room and they are now standing nose to nose. Miles' voice is eerily quiet, "You touched her." It's a statement, not a question.

"Geez Miles, it was nothing, I swear… absolutely no big deal at all." Connor is nervous under the glare of this man he has come to think of as a friend.

Rachel stomps a foot, and yells, "WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?"

Charlie breaks in, "What Connor is trying to say is that he and I slept together while we were in New Vegas."

Monroe moans quietly. Rachel bristles. Miles deflates a bit, and plops down on the couch.

"You," Rachel's voice is icy, "slept with my daughter?" Her glare is burning a hole in Connor.

"Oh hell Rachel. It was a fling. People have them all the time. It was just the one time." Connor runs a hand nervously through thick black curls, "and it was before they hooked up." At this last bit, he waves his hand in the general direction of Bass and Charlie.

Everyone freezes.

Rachel leans against a wall for support. Her eyes have gone steely. "Charlie is this true? Did you sleep with Bass Monroe AND his son?"

Charlie nods slowly, not speaking.

Connor interrupts, "Yeah she slept with both of us, but you know like I said…. not at the same time."

"Great job Connor, you stupid ass," Monroe mutters, shaking his head. "Now she's going to kill ALL of us."

Miles is on his feet, and ushering Rachel out of the house before Connor's words anger her even more.

The front door slams behind them, and Gene emerges from the kitchen. He's wearing an apron that says 'Kiss the Cook'. When he sees Charlie and Bass, he smiles at them both. "Hey Charlie!" He goes to her and gives her a warm hug. "Glad to have you back. Seems tense in here. What did I miss?"

Bass shakes his head, "Gene, you really don't want to know. I promise."

Gene shrugs, "Allright, well dinner's ready if anyone wants to try some beef stew."

Everyone does, if only for an excuse not to talk for a while.

* * *

Miles and Rachel sit in silence at what passes for a bar in Willoughby. They are both staring into snifters full of the local moonshine. These are not the first ones they've stared at today. If Miles is counting right (and he's pretty sure he is) this is their third glass each. This swill goes down about as smoothly as drain cleaner. They haven't said anything yet, both swirling around in their own heads.

He breaks the silence, "I was where you are. When I first saw them together I thought my blood was going to boil."

Rachel says nothing. She takes another drink.

"But then I watched them together for a little while, and later I was able to talk to them and they were…" he pauses, searching for the right words. "Listen, here's the thing: I know it's weird, and there's the age difference, and of course the way Bass used to be and the stuff he did, but I think they maybe love each other."

"Bullshit." Rachel mutters.

"I know it's not easy to wrap your head around, but the way they look at each other… it reminds me of the way we look at each other."

Rachel takes a deep drink, making a face at the taste. "He doesn't deserve her Miles. It's just not right."

"You know, Charlie doesn't blame him for Ben, for Danny. She said the way she figures it, he was partially responsible, but not solely responsible. I think she figures life is too short to pass up happiness once she finds it."

Rachel looks up at him, "You're saying she's found it? She's found happiness? With Monroe?" Rachel is shaking her head. "Sounded more to me like she's been working her way through the Monroe family, trying them all on for size. Is that what you call 'happiness'?"

"So, you're saying that a person can't be interested in two different people who happen to be related?" He catches and holds her gaze meaningfully.

"Wait Miles! That was different." Rachel pushes back her bar stool and stands on unsteady feet. "It was different. You and me and Ben… it was different." Her indignation fades. She sinks back down to the bar stool. "It's not any different is it?"

"There's only one difference that I can see."

Rachel looks at him and cocks an eye brow questioningly.

"She is choosing the one she really loves, instead of the one who might be considered more appropriate for her."

"That's not fair Miles. I chose you. You left."

"Yeah," his laughter holds no humor, "You chose me, but you stayed with him."

They sit quietly for several more minutes. Wordlessly, Miles reaches for her hand. They share a sad smile. It is a smile that speaks volumes in and of itself. They have loved each other for so long, but they know that so many years were wasted because they made some bad choices early on. They can't go back. What's done is done.

"So," Rachel says quietly, "I should just accept that she's with Monroe?"

"Well, yeah." He nods, "unless you want to lose her, because I think that's what would happen next if you push too hard."

Rachel nods.

"She is after all, her Mother's daughter." Miles squeezes her hand. "Oh, by the way."

"Yeah?"

"She evidently has known that I'm her Dad for a while now."

"Damn."

* * *

"There are way too many damn people in that little house." Bass is grouchy. He's tired of sharing a place with a bunch of people. He's tired of being oh so close to Charlie but without a chance to touch her… not a free moment to talk to her quietly. They are never alone. He is going crazy.

"Yeah, I know." Charlie and Monroe are tending the horses. They are mucking out stalls that have been built into what was once a four-car garage. "I never thought I'd volunteer to sling horse crap just to have some free time with my man." She laughs and kicks a chunk of horse poop his way.

"None of that." Bass smiles at her wickedly. "You cannot tease and flirt with a man in my state and not expect to deal with the consequences." He meets her gaze and sees that his own need is reflected there. Forcefully, he plunges his pitch fork into a bale of hay and starts toward her.

Charlie grins, "These consequences you speak of," her voice is breathy and low. "I'd like to learn more about those."

In a heartbeat, Bass has her pinned against the wall near an old workbench on the back wall. He begins to devour her mouth with his own. His hands are not gentle as he strokes and rubs her body. His intensity is contagious. She wraps one leg around him, pushing against his crotch with her own. She's pulling him to her, holding him tightly, deepening the kiss.

"Too much clothing" she moans against his lips.

Monroe reaches between them and un-buckles his jeans urgently. Charlie un-buckles her own and pushes them down around her knees. She's kissing him again. Without breaking the contact he walks them over to the workbench. He pulls away from the kiss, trailing his lips along her throat as he takes hold of her shoulders and turns her around. Monroe leans in, whispering into her ear, "I want to take you from behind." She doesn't object when he bends her over workbench.

She makes a mewing sound in the back of her throat and pushes back against him. "Take me Bass. Do it now."

Bass groans as he pushes his jeans down just enough to release his erection. He begins to rub her back and her perfect ass with his hands. He leans over her – his chest pressed against her back. He nibbles on her ear while one hand finds her throbbing center. He begins to move his fingers against her rhythmically, while pressing his hard dick into her back. Charlie moans, "Bass". She wiggles her ass against him enticing him to make the next move. Grabbing his cock, he rubs it up and down her slit. She is so wet and he is so ready. Without warning he slams into her fully from behind. She cries out, arching her back and moving with him as he fills her hot pussy with his own special heat. They move together like that for a while. It is primal. It is so incredibly hot. They've not been together in days and the tension has built. Charlie is grasping at the sides of the tool bench, holding on for dear life. Bass is pumping in and out of her forcefully. He puts his hands on her hips and uses them to leverage deeper thrusts. The smacking sound their skin makes echoes off the walls of this garage-turned horse barn. The momentum is building and he feels the contractions vibrating around his cock as she shudders to orgasm, head thrown back, and hair spilling down her back. His own orgasm is imminent and he pulls out to release on her hip. Careful to support the bulk of his weight on his elbows, he falls on her. Their heavy breathing gradually slows. Contentment reigns. Slowly they untangle from each other and pull their jeans back into place. Charlie leans into him for another kiss.

"We gotta finish these stalls now," she says smiling contentedly. He continues kissing her though, not caring about the damn horses.

"Wow, the horse barn? Really?" Miles is standing in the door, shaking his head. Bass and Charlie exchange thankful glances. This would have been a hell of a lot worse if he'd shown up five minutes ago.

"Sorry Miles, but that house is too damn small" Monroe growls, "And Rachel is everywhere. It's like she's going out of her way to make sure we never have any time together."

Miles shrugs. "You might be right. Anyway, you both need to come inside. Connor has called a meeting of the local militia to discuss next steps." He looks over at his old friend, "Bass, you're going to be really proud of your kid. He's really good at this war shit."

"Connor is in charge of the militia now? When did that happen?" Charlie is surprised.

"No idea" Bass says. He can't hide the smile of a proud father. "Must be in the blood."


	10. Chapter 10

Miles, Rachel, Charlie and Bass pile into the wagon and make their way to where the meeting is being held in an old high school gym on the edge of Willoughby. On the way, Miles fills Charlie and Bass in on what's been happening with the Patriot War. The mercenaries that Bass had hired had arrived at just the perfect time. They'd been a bit lost at first since they'd been told to answer to Bass who was MIA. Miles and Rachel were already in the trenches and couldn't be reached. Connor saw that the men needed someone to take charge, and so he did. Connor was a natural leader, and the hired killers (as well as an assortment of men from the town) quickly became loyal soldiers under his command.

The younger Monroe had been patrolling with Rachel one afternoon when a pipe bomb had been thrown their way. Rachel would have taken the brunt of the hit, but Connor threw himself on her. This was how he'd gotten hurt. His little army had witnessed the selfless act and continued to fight. Rachel and Miles called the shots for a while, but as soon as he was able, Connor began to give orders from his hospital bed. The Battle of Willoughby had been brutal, but in the end, the Patriots were soundly defeated.

They reached the old gym and climbed down from the wagon. As they began to walk toward the building, Bass noticed a group of rough looking men lounging next to an old school bus. Bass points at them, "Uh, Miles?"

"Yeah?" Miles comes up beside Bass and sees what Monroe is looking at, "Oh them? Yeah, they don't want to leave."

"But those are Duncan's men. I didn't really buy them, you know. They were more part of a rental agreement." He looks a little tense, "Miles, she's going to want her guys back."

"I don't know Bass. She might not get them back so easily."

"Duncan doesn't respond well to having things taken from her."

"Good luck to her. Those guys may have been Duncan's before, but they are Connor's army now. They will do anything for him. I don't see them going anywhere soon."

"Let's just hope that Duncan doesn't come looking for them. It could get ugly."

Miles shrugs, "The Patriots got ugly too. Didn't work out so well for them."

They enter the crowded gym just as Connor walks stiffly to the podium. He is still clearly in some discomfort from his injuries. His voice is strong though, and carries to the corners of the room. Everyone is paying attention. Connor explains why he has called the meeting. Word of the Willoughby victory has spread. Now there are other groups of citizens standing against the intruders. Patriot insurgencies in all regions are finding themselves being hit, and hit hard. "We've heard of decisive victories in Bowling Green, Austin, St Louis, Hannibal and Des Moines. Other groups are still fighting. We're going to send a squad to Oklahoma City and a second to Indianapolis. They will leave at first light."

The meeting goes on for a while. Connor really has a way with these ragtag soldiers. They are really responding to him – hanging on his every word. Bass is proud of his son. They are so much alike, and yet so different. When he led the Republic, Bass had inspired fear. Connor is inspiring loyalty. Bass smiles. In his heart, he now feels that the Monroe Republic truly has a chance of returning to not just its former glory – but something even better.

As they leave, Miles turns to Bass with a grin, "So a bunch of nobodies in a small town rise up against insurgents and win. That victory inspires others all over the nation to rise up as well. Remind you of anything?"

Monroe looks at his old friend and returns his grin, "Wolverines!" he yells, raising a fist in the air.

* * *

"Honey, we're home!" Aaron yells as he clumsily enters the house shared by the Mathesons and Monroes. He looks around and wonders if he got the address right.

Gene appears, as if on cue and Aaron breathes a sigh of relief. "Hi Aaron. Priscilla." He nods to each in turn, smiling. "We weren't sure when you were getting here."

"Well, it wasn't fun, but we made it. I'd kill for a shower."

Gene raises an eye brow in question.

"Not you Gene. I'm not going to kill you. Not today anyway." He chuckles, "Geesh. Set a few guys on fire and everybody assumes that it's all you do."

"Is everyone okay? We heard about the fighting." Priscilla asks, changing the subject.

"We lost eleven. The patriots lost a lot more than that. Connor is in charge of the militia now.

"Connor? Monroe's Son Connor?" Aaron looks surprised. "How did he get in charge?"

"He really proved himself when we were fighting the Patriots. He put himself in the way of danger to save some of his guys. He even got hurt pretty badly saving Rachel." Gene shrugs. "He's the kind of guy people want to follow."

Aaron nods thoughtfully, "And Monroe's feelings about this?"

Gene frowns a little and then sighs, "I think he's totally okay with it - kind of passing the torch or whatever. Plus, he's been busy with Charlie. I guess they're dating." He sees Aaron's shock, "Yeah, I know. We were surprised too, but they seem fairly serious actually."

Aaron sits abruptly, unable to come up with anything to say.

Priscilla puts a hand on Aaron's shoulder in support. "Charlie is very special to Aaron. He worries about her."

Gene nods, "Yeah, we all do, but this might end up being okay. You'll get used to it at least. Once you see them together, it is way less bizarre." He turns to walk away, but then snaps his fingers and faces them again, "Oh and Miles and Rachel are back together. I cook a lot and try to stay out of everyone's way. When I'm needed, I help at the clinic. That's pretty much everything."

Aaron finally finds his voice. "Wow. Charlie and Monroe? I did not see that coming." Clearly Aaron is trying to wrap his head around this bit of news. After a moment he continues, "And Rachel with Miles? Not totally surprising I guess, but what do you mean BACK together?"

Gene laughs, "Let me show you guys where you'll be sleeping. Once you've had a chance to freshen up and unpack, everything else will probably be easier to digest. We can talk more then."

* * *

Rachel finds Charlie on the practice field. She's been sparring with one of Connor's soldiers. Even though Charlie hasn't been in the midst of fighting lately, it is important to her that she's always ready. She never again wants to be in a situation that makes her feel helpless. Rachel watches from the sidelines. Charlie is a force. She's graceful and quick. Her sword work is steadily improving. Rachel can see Miles in some of Charlie's moves.

She waits until Charlie has forced her opponent to the ground in defeat. Then she calls out for her daughter's attention, "Charlie, can we talk?'

Charlie acknowledges her Mom with a nod before helping her sparring partner get up. They shake hands before Charlie makes her way to her Mom. "Let's walk and talk. I need to get back to the house and clean up."

"All right."

"What do you want to talk about?" Charlie asks. Her tone is not terribly curious. It's clear that she is not looking forward to this conversation.

"I want to talk about Monroe." Rachel tries to hold her daughter's eyes, but Charlie is on the move.

"What about him?" she asks.

"I just want to know if you are sure. Are you sure?"

Charlie stops. She turns to face her Mother. "Am I sure?" she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm sure that he makes me happy. I'm sure that he's always there for me. I'm sure that he would do anything for me. I'm sure that he loves me. I'm sure that I love him." With that, she begins to walk again, but she's going at a slower pace now.

"Okay. I get it. You think you love him…"

"No. You don't get it. I didn't say I THINK I love him. I DO love him." Charlie is angry and her voice begins to rise. "You know when we got back from the Tower and we heard about the things that had happened in Atlanta and Philly; you weren't the only one who struggled with that." She takes a breath. "I lost Nora, one of my only friends, and a heartbeat later I lost you too – to your quiet depression or whatever it was. I felt alone. I felt empty. I started screwing random guys in hopes that I'd feel something." Charlie throws up her hands, "that I'd feel anything at all."

"Charlie, I'm sorry I wasn't…"

"No, don't interrupt me." She continues, "After a while I heard Monroe was around. I wanted him dead just as much as you did. I went to find him and kill him. I started to think that his death would fill that void inside me. I hunted him down. I had him in my sights, and fate snatched him away. I chased him down again, and for a while we were prisoners together. He talked to me, really talked to me for the first time. I still hated him, but I also started to understand him a little. I could sense that he had a void too. We were both empty. We weren't friends or allies, but we shared this emptiness. I still wanted to kill him for what his men did to Dad and to Danny, but I also started to see that he wasn't quite the devil we'd all made him out to be – not completely. We ended up fighting together and in time I grew to respect him – to trust him even. Then when he was executed, I felt something for the first time in a long time. I felt regret – even knowing that he wasn't really dying; I still felt this overwhelming sense of regret. Regret that I didn't really get to know him when I had the chance."

Rachel reaches out and puts a hand on Charlie's shoulder. Charlie doesn't move. She continues telling her story, "Then after he recovered and he found his son and things were happening here with Grandpa and the Typhus, and you know things were just crazy? Well, it suddenly dawned on me one day that I didn't hate Monroe anymore. I didn't like him particularly, but I didn't hate him. I didn't want him dead."

Charlie pauses, and Rachel can tell that the pivotal part of this story is coming. "When we went to New Vegas, I had started to feel a little better – a little more human. I started to realize that I felt less empty when he was around. I know that sounds dumb, but it's how I felt. I thought maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it was Connor. He is young and hot and everything I should be looking for. He was there, and I thought maybe my feelings were really about him. I even went so far as to screw him, thinking it would take care of that Monroe itch I was starting to feel." She shakes her head, "I knew it was a mistake as soon as it happened, but before I had a chance to put things right – I got attacked and Bass saved me. Again. He's always saving me."

Rachel is now standing beside her daughter, her arm wrapped around Charlie's shoulder. She is listening intently. "When I woke up and realized he was there – that he wasn't going to leave me; everything clicked. I knew that he was the only person who would ever be able to fill that void." She turns to face her Mom, tears welling in her eyes. "He fills my void Mom, and I fill his. When we are together, neither of us is empty anymore."

Rachel reaches for her daughter; her eyes also wet with tears.

Miles watches from the training grounds as the two women he loves most in life embrace. "It's about time," he mutters to himself.

* * *

There is a knock at the door and Gene answers, "Hello." The beautiful woman dressed in leather brushes past him.

"Take me to Monroe." She demands.

"He's in the office. I'll let him know you are here. What's your name?"

"Tell him Duncan is here, and she wants her men back."

Gene leaves the room and comes back a few moments later. He looks wary. "Go on back. He's waiting for you. Second door on the left."

Duncan walks down the narrow hallway. She pauses at the door for just a moment before pushing it open. The room is simple. Bookshelves line one wall. A narrow window lets in the only natural light. On the wall behind a large desk hangs a tattered Monroe Republic flag. Monroe is sitting at the desk, head lowered. He appears to be reading something. She waits for a moment, but when he doesn't acknowledge her – she slams her palms down on the edge of the desk. "Damn it Sebastian – I want my men back."

He lifts his head, and the shadows of the room dance across his face. "Hello Duncan".

"You? I asked for Monroe."

"You asked for Monroe, and you got a Monroe." He holds out a hand, "We were never formally introduced in New Vegas. I'm Connor." He pauses before continuing, "Connor Monroe. Bass is my father."

Duncan looks at him closely. She'd noticed this guy in New Vegas of course, but Sebastian had held most of her attention at the time…along with that little firecracker who had pulled the gun. She sees the resemblance now. He's sexy like his Dad – same curly hair and deep eyes. He's very young, but clearly confident; he returns her gaze without wavering. Duncan is intrigued. She motions to the flag, "So, bringing the Republic back?"

"That's the plan." He nods quietly, waiting for her to continue.

Suddenly impatient, Duncan frowns, "Well, this has been fun but I have business with your Daddy. Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him about my men."

Connor smiles, "Why exactly do you think he is the one you need to talk to?"

"I made a deal with Sebastian. He paid me."

"True, but then he got side tracked for two months while I fought side by side with 'your men'." Connor moves from behind the desk and makes his way toward Duncan. "I battled with them. I bled with them. I risked my neck FOR them. In the beginning they fought with me. By the end, they fought for me." He's now standing close enough that she can feel his breath as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "They are mine now."

Her heart jumps at his closeness. She feels a heat rise in her belly at his lips brush ever so lightly against the skin behind her ear. Duncan is irritated with this kid and with her own reaction to him. "That was not the deal." She takes an involuntary step back.

"Deals fall through. It happens." Connor shrugs, "Maybe you should just cut your losses and head back home."

"I'm not going to 'lose' my men." Duncan's jaw is clenched. "Not without a fight."

Connor sits back in his chair, puts his feet on the desk and leans back. He watches her without saying anything for a while. He smiles, "Okay, I have an idea."

"What?" Duncan demands. Her breathing is now back to normal, mostly.

"You can join us. You and your remaining men. We could use the manpower and you could use the job." He smiles at her.

She throws her head back and laughs mirthlessly, "No chance."

"Don't say no so quickly. You must have heard of all the Patriot groups falling across the nations? They are falling to Monroe allies. Soon, this," he pauses to spread his arms expansively, "will all be part of the New Monroe Republic. Join us. Bring your men. In return for joining us, I will make sure you have a place in the Monroe leadership. My Dad and I are going to be partners. He's going to lead the Republic politically. I will lead the Militia. You could be a great asset to me – to us."

Duncan has heard of the various battles erupting all over the Plains Nation, Texas and other areas. She is aware that the Patriots are in trouble, losing left and right to small groups of determined 'rebels'. This kid is a cocky jerk (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree), but he's right. The Republic is rising, and if she can find a place in that administration – well she could do worse.

"Tempting Kid, but Sebastian and I, well we have a history. We probably wouldn't work well together."

"Then you would work for me. My Dad told me you have been leading your tribe for some time. He said you are quite the strategist. The men have only had good things to say about your leadership…"

She snorts, "Yeah, they clearly loved me."

Connor smiles, "They never said anything negative about you. It wasn't like that. I think they just liked working for me better. That's all." He pauses before continuing, "I could use you as an advisor. You wouldn't have to work with my Dad at all." Connor chuckles, "Not that he'll even notice. Frankly he's pretty preoccupied lately."

"Preoccupied with what?" She asks.

Connor shrugs, "He's in love. It's fairly new territory for him so he's been distracted."

Realization dawns. "That girl with the gun?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Charlie."

"Didn't care for her, but if she keeps him busy; I guess she's okay."

"Are you interested?" His eyes bore into hers, and she's no longer sure what it is he's asking her… Yes, she is finding herself very interested indeed.

"I'm interested," she pauses, "but only if you keep your promise. The idea of being your military advisor intrigues me." She holds out a hand.

He shakes it. "Well, you won't be the only one. I already have two others. Miles led the Militia for a long time. He said he's not interested in having his old job back, but he is going to lead the training program. He'll get the soldiers in shape and will help me with military strategy. His experience is something that the Republic can benefit greatly from."

"You said two. Who's the other?"

"Her name is Rachel. She is beyond stubborn… absolutely never listens. She's wicked smart though and has killer instincts. Honestly, you will probably hate each other."

Duncan frowns.

Connor rubs his hands together and grins, "Damn this is going to be fun."

* * *

Bass approaches the house with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Things are really going well. He has just returned from a scouting trip outside the Willoughby border with Miles. It had been pretty uneventful. Miles had told him that daily patrols are necessary just in case any Patriot allies were to return, but that they rarely amounted to much these days. It had been nice. The two old friends had chatted and reminisced about times long gone. There were some topics that were never addressed by unspoken agreement: Emma, Shelly, Ben, Rachel's imprisonment, Danny… The pain was still there for Miles. The guilt was there for Monroe. Someday they would need to talk these things through, but for now it was all still too raw for both. They are slowly finding their way back to a new version of their old friendship. Maybe it would never be the way it used to be, but it is already better than it had been. Bass feels that things are finally going right. He and Connor have a plan to take back the Republic (though it will surely be a kinder version than the first). He has Charlie. Now he is starting to feel like his oldest friendship might be salvaged as well. He's getting his brother back.

Bass opens the door and almost runs right into Aaron. "Oh," he says in surprise. "Didn't know you were back."

Aaron eyeballs him wearily. "You." He frowns. "We need to talk."

"You still do the thing with the fire?" Bass is trying not to be nervous, but can't seem to help himself. "When you're mad, do you still…" He leaves the rest of his question unasked.

"I can control it more now. It's less volatile than it was."

Bass looks at him for a minute, "Sorry that doesn't really make me feel better."

"Wasn't trying to make you feel better." On some level, Aaron is starting to enjoy this. He's never been in a position to strike fear into someone like Monroe. "Come with me."

Bass dumps his pack on the sofa and follows Aaron down the hall to the room which has become the office. Usually this is where Connor and Bass discuss strategy. Often Miles and Rachel join in. This is the first time he's felt like a visitor in this room. Aaron sits behind the desk and folds his hands on its surface. "Charlie." He says.

Monroe sits in the visitor chair, and looks Aaron in the eye. "What about her Aaron?"

"Well, not to be the overbearing pseudo uncle, but what exactly are your intentions?"

When he realizes that Aaron is at least going to give him a chance to explain before turning him into charcoal, Monroe relaxes. This he can do. He is more than happy to tell the Michelin Man exactly how he feels about Charlie. And he does. He starts with the trip to New Vegas and the heist. He glosses over the thing with Connor, but goes into some detail when he speaks of Charlie's injuries at the hands of Boaz. He explains how the feelings between them had been bubbling just below the surface for a long time before – at least since the pool when that Ken Doll had held them hostage, but that it was during her recovery that they really bonded. Bass explains to Aaron exactly how he feels about Charlie now, how much he loves her, how he would do anything for her.

Aaron sits quietly through all of it. He listens. He finds that he believes Monroe. He knows what love looks like. This guy clearly has fallen hard.

"I want to marry her."

This is a surprise. Aaron raises an eyebrow in question, "Really? I wouldn't have pegged you for the husband type."

Bass shrugs, "You are looking at the new and improved Bass Monroe." Smiling, he continues, "Charlie has changed me, for the better."

Aaron nods slowly. He sees at least some truth in that statement. "Okay then. Good." Visibly relaxed, he leans back in his chair a little.

Seeing that this is – at least for now- settled, Monroe changes the subject, "So the Nano?"

"Yeah?" Aaron's wariness returns.

"Are you able to command it purposefully or is it just reacting to your subconscious desires?"

"I'm getting better at controlling it. I no longer worry about every random emotion setting it off."

Bass nods thoughtfully, "Good. That's good." He smiles at Aaron, "I know we aren't exactly friends yet, but can I ask you a favor?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: The first part of this chapter covers the same scene from two different points of view.  It was an experiment at the time and not one I'm super fond of, but alas... I have no time to re-write.  Hopefully it kind of works.  Leave a comment and let me know.  :)**

* * *

Old Lovers, New Lovers (Miles & Rachel)

"So Bass told Aaron he's going to propose to Charlie." Miles has waited to tell Rachel this chunk of news until she's calm and satisfied. They are lying in a sweaty heap on an old blanket. The blanket is lying on top of a bed of straw in the same garage-turned barn that Bass and Charlie sometimes frequent. When you want privacy around here, this is sometimes the best place to get it.

Rachel picks her head up from his chest, and frowns. "I guess we knew something like that was coming."

"The whole idea of marriage is silly these days though. Not sure why he's set on it. Hasn't meant anything legally since the blackout. Not like there are federal benefits or any tax breaks to take." He laughs sarcastically.

"People were getting married long before they could claim it on their tax returns," she frowns at him.

Miles shrugs, "The good news is that he'll always protect her. She'll be safer with him than anybody."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, "Safer, huh?"

"You know Bass has really changed. It started happening when Philly got hit. That messed with him Rachel. This thing that's happened with Charlie has been really good for him. He's in a good place. He's not crazy ass Bass anymore."

She sighs, "Yeah. And Charlie is happy. Not much to argue with." They don't say anything more, but lay there enjoying these moments. It won't be long till they have to go do other things. For now they are relishing this quality time together.

With no warning, the barn door slams open and they hear giggling. "Charlie?" Rachel whispers, frantically reaching for her clothes.

Miles reaches a hand out to stop her. He shakes his head. That's when she senses what Miles had already noticed. Charlie isn't alone, and she's not here to feed the horses.

The door slams shut again, and Miles and Rachel sit, frozen in place listening to the activity on the other side of the stall.

"Oh my God Bass," Charlie's voice is a moan. There are more kissing sounds and then some shuffling.

"Take those off." Bass demands hungrily.

The sounds of kissing and moaning resume. A shirt flies over their heads, as Rachel looks at Miles with a pained expression. This is so awkward. What can they do? They can now hear the slapping of skin as Bass and Charlie are clearly in the throes of passion. Clearly these two didn't have any time to waste today. Rachel sees Miles' face change as he clearly has an idea. He puts two fingers between his lips and makes a strange noise that sounds a lot like the way a cricket sounds. Rachel is surprised. She's never heard him do that before, and doesn't understand why he chose now to start.

But seemingly in response, they hear Monroe say, "Ah fuck!" There is a pause in the skin slapping sounds for a moment, and then they begin again in earnest. Rachel also detects the cricket sound again, but in two quick successions. She glances at Miles. This time the sound didn't come from him. She realizes that somehow Miles and Bass are communicating. These guys are so bizarre. She just shakes her head, before dropping it into her hands helplessly. When will this be over?

Miles is starting to fume. Clearly Bass knows he's here, but he isn't stopping. What a cocky bastard! Who fucks a girl when her DAD is within hearing distance? Based on the sounds they are both making, it's almost over. Good. Miles is tense. He's sure Rachel is too. They can't handle much more of this. If only they'd left five minutes earlier, instead of lying around talking. Oh well. There's nothing they can do about it now.

Miles hears Charlie's moan of release followed by a satisfied grunt from Bass. There is a lot of heavy breathing as the two come down from their release. Then Charlie speaks, "Do you want to have more kids?"

Rachel and Miles sit at attention and stare at each other, eyes wide. Hell, is she pregnant?

As if echoing their unspoken question, Bass asks, "Charlotte, are you pregnant?" his voice is soft, loving and very gentle. He hasn't answered her question with words, but his tone is answer in itself. He is clearly not opposed to the idea of more kids.

"No," she says, "not yet; but if we keep doing this, there's a decent chance I will be."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you don't mind?" her voice sounds hesitant and a little shy.

"I love you so much, and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. If we have kids, that's great. If we don't - that's great too. I just want to be with you. Everything else we'll take one day at a time."

"I love you too Bass." She sounds so happy, so content. It's hard for her parents to be anything but happy for her. They share a silent look. Miles shrugs. Then they are hearing more kissing.

Bass breaks up the kiss, and says, "Hey there's actually something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What?" she asks.

There is a rustling sound and then they can hear an intake of breath. "Charlotte Matheson, will you marry me?"

Her voice is only a whisper, but Miles and Rachel can clearly here her say, "Yes Bass. Yes."

After some celebratory kissing (do these two ever stop kissing each other? Damn) they hear Bass tell Charlie that she should head inside he'll be following right behind her.

* * *

Old Lovers, New Lovers (Bass & Charlie)

They'd been sparring. Charlie is learning so much from these sessions. Sometimes she's training with Miles. He shows her sword play and dodging tactics. Sometimes she's training with Bass. He shows her how to anticipate and out-think her opponent. Her lessons with Bass are often hand to hand, no weapons. That's what they'd done today. By the time the session was over, they were both red faced and breathing heavily; tired, but exhilarated. Charlie feels tingly all over. Training with Bass is amazing. Its torture and foreplay all wrapped up in one beautiful man package. She's looking him up and down, watching his chest heave a little. Her eyes go to his and she sees her own desire mirrored there.

"You know," she says in a low voice, "Since we're already a mess, what say we check on the horses?"

He grins at her reference to check the horses, and nods. Taking her hand they start walking toward the garage/barn. Every few steps they stop to kiss or grope a little. Soon they aren't walking. Running, they slam into the barn door. In a heartbeat, Bass has her pinned against the interior wall. Her legs are soon wrapped around his waist. Their mouths are hungrily moving together at a frenzied pace. Hands are reaching, pulling at articles of clothing.

"Oh my God Bass," Charlie moans. He pulls her back from the wall just enough so that she can drop her legs from around him. As soon as her feet are on the floor, he's frantically grabbing at her clothing, baring her skin for his exploring mouth and fingers.

"Take those off." He motions his head to her pants as he's pulling his shirt off over his head. Carelessly he tosses it away to concentrate on her naked form. He is wearing only his pants, but they are now dropped to mid thigh. He picks her up as if she weighs nothing and pushes her into the wall again. Her legs encircle his waste and in one fluid motion he's inside her, supporting her with his hands and the wall. He's moving inside her, hard and fast. Their bodies are sweaty and they are breathing raggedly. Her feet cross at the small of his back. She can feel the rough wall digging into her back but she doesn't care.

Monroe is pounding into her core with every thrust. Charlie knows she'll be reminded of this epic fucking with every step she takes tomorrow. Damn he is so good, and his cock is so hard and this angle is perfect. She moans into his throat, as she feels him pushing against her cervix every time he slams into her. She is surprised when he pauses abruptly and growls out, "Oh fuck!" He then makes a weird sound in his throat before continuing, even more urgently than before. Strangeness quickly forgotten, she feels her composure fading as the pressure builds. Soon she shatters, erupting into a million tiny pieces of contentment. He follows soon behind, buried to the hilt, she feels his seed spilling into her deepest self. There are a few moments where they stay motionless, panting.

Charlie kisses Bass gently, before quietly asking, "Do you want to have more kids?"

He pulls his face from hers just enough to quietly ask, "Charlotte, are you pregnant?" his expression is so tender, it makes her heart ache. His mouth curves in the tiniest hint of a smile.

"No," she says, "not yet; but if we keep doing this," she motions toward the fact that they are still joined. He looks down at where his now softening dick is still buried in her folds. He loves doing this, staying inside her until he absolutely has to pull out. He can't help it. "If we keep doing this, there's a decent chance I will be."

"Yeah, I know." He sighs, pressing his forehead against hers. He's still smiling. It's a smile that makes her heart sing. It's a smile that tells her just how much she means to him. It's a smile that hints at a future.

"And you wouldn't mind?" she asks shyly. They've been intimate for months now, but they've never really talked about anything this… optimistic, before.

Bass sighs happily, "I love you so much, and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. If we have kids, that's great. If we don't - that's great too." He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, like he never ever wants to let go. "I just want to be with you. Everything else we'll take one day at a time."

"I love you too Bass." Charlie is happy – happy in a way she never thought she'd know. She feels like she might just burst from it. She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself a little. He sees the emotion in her eyes, and leans in for a sweet and loving kiss. For someone who just moments before was so rough, he can also be so very gentle. Sighing into his mouth, Charlie feels a little sad as he pushes away from her, his dick sliding from her body slickly. Carefully he helps settle her back on flat feet.

"Hey there's actually something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What?" she asks.

Still naked as the day he was born, the great Sebastian Monroe (former dictator of the Monroe Republic & famous Scourge of Scranton) kneels before her on one knee in the straw. She sucks in a breath, anticipation stirring butterflies in her stomach. "Charlotte Matheson, will you marry me?"

Her grin is immediate, and the moment he sees it he knows that everything is going to be okay. She whispers softly, "Yes Bass. Yes."

She grabs his outstretched hand and pulls him back up to stand before her. Charlie stands on tip toes and kisses him hard on the mouth. "Yes," she says again, almost too low for him to hear. He tears himself away, grinning down at his new fiancé.

"Here," he says collecting her things and handing them to her. "Get dressed and head to the house. I'll be along in just a few minutes."

* * *

They wait for him to get decent before coming out of the stall they've been captive in since this whole thing started. Rachel tosses Bass his shirt. Miles is staring daggers into his oldest friend, but quickly his expression softens as he sees the look on Monroe's face. This is one happy man. His grin alone is priceless. Usually you only see smiles like that on little kids at Christmas.

"Hey, I am so sorry that you had to hear that." He doesn't actually look like he cares at all, but they wait for him to continue, "I didn't hear your signal at first, and by the time I registered what I had heard… well, I just wasn't at a, um, good stopping point." He runs a nervous hand through his curls. Rachel notes that his hand is shaking, but she can tell it's not from anxiety or nerves. He's shaking from his own emotions. He's shaking with joy. With hope.

"Yeah, well it was awkward. That's for sure." Miles frowns, but then smiles too. Bass' mood is downright contagious. "So I guess congratulations are in order."

"Thanks," Bass is beaming. The three old friends (and Bass feels that he is getting them both back slowly) exit the building. They've walked only a few steps when Monroe starts laughing.

"What?" Miles asks.

"Is it too soon to start calling you Dad?"

Miles punches Bass in the shoulder hard. "Don't be a dick Bass."

"Hey guys," Rachel says, her expression curious (she's choosing to ignore the Dad comment for the moment). "What was the thing you guys did? That noise you made?"

"That's how we used to let each other know we were nearby." Miles says. "Started in a game of hide and seek. We were maybe twelve."

"Used it a lot in Iraq too. Just sort of became our thing." Bass continues.

"Clearly we haven't been using it enough. You didn't even notice at first."

"In my defense," Bass replies with a smirk, "I was really, really busy."

"Stop talking, or I will have to kill you." Miles is frowning again, but his eyes are smiling.

"Come on you guys," Rachel says, putting her arms around both of them as they walk toward the house together. "Let's go get Charlie and we can all go out for a celebratory whiskey."

"Or many whiskeys." Miles corrects her. "I think I have a lot of emotional scarring after that…" he motions his head back toward the barn, "experience. Hell, I might just need therapy."

"I hear therapy is hard to come by these days, DAD." Bass laughs, "But damn, I'll buy you a whole bottle of whiskey to get you started. I bet it will be better than anything Dr. Phil could do for you anyway."

* * *

They get married at sunset in a quiet field outside of Willoughby on a cool spring evening, before a group of family, friends and fellow soldiers.

Bass is wearing black pants and a white shirt. He has attempted to calm down the curls, but they are sticking out a bit. He has trimmed his beard. Monroe had offered to shave for the big day, but Charlie loved his scruff and would hear nothing of it. He looks nervous as hell, but oh so happy.

Miles and Rachel jointly walk Charlie down the aisle. From the expressions on their faces, it is clear that they have come to terms with any misgivings they might have had. They approve.

This is Charlie's big day, and she is lovely. She's wearing a simple cream colored knee length dress, which a local lady had sewn from old curtains ala Scarlett O'Hara. Her hair is down and a few small white flowers have been pinned in the long curls. In her hands she holds a small bouquet of daisies. She is radiant.

Bass watches from his post near Aaron. His breath catches when he sees her heading his way. Their eyes lock and the rest of the world falls away. When she reaches him, she gives both Rachel and Miles a quick hug before they go stand with the others. Connor and Duncan are standing in the front row right next to Aaron and Priscilla. Gene proudly rounds out the odd little family. In spite of all they'd been through, this was a momentous occasion – a day of joyful celebration for all.

Charlie looks at her groom and they are so lost in each other's gaze that they miss the first bit of Aaron's speech. When they begin to pay attention again he's saying, "the bride and groom have written their own vows. Charlie?"

She nods at Aaron and then beams up at Bass. "I had given up hope, you know? My life was consumed with the thought of revenge. I was empty and felt all alone. At first, it was my desire to kill you that consumed me." She pauses, looking deep into his eyes, "but then my desire to kill you became a different kind of desire. My hate faded and evolved into something else. I started to feel alive again. You brought me back from the brink." Clasping his hands tightly in her own, she leans closer. "You are my whole world Bass Monroe. I will do everything in my power to show you how much I love you every day for the rest of our lives."

Bass takes a deep breath, "Charlotte. From the first moment I saw you, being all brave and invincible; I was intrigued. You were a big pain in my ass for a while, but you started to wear on me with your fierce loyalty to your family… with the way you threw yourself into every task… with the way you shined your light on a dark and awful world. I loved you long before I admitted it to myself. It scared the hell out of me." He frowns for just a second, "It still does, but I am not going to lose this because I'm afraid of losing you. This love is worth whatever may happen. I love you with every fiber of my being Charlie Matheson. There is nothing I want more than to be your husband."

Aaron speaks, "Their love story is epic, you know. Bass & Charlie, spanning years and continents. Lives ruined and blood shed. Epic."

Miles had just taken a little drink from the flask in his shirt pocket when he hears these words, and chokes a little in surprise. Leaning close to Rachel he asks, "Is Aaron actually quoting Logan Echolls at our daughter's wedding?"

Rachel is laughing too, "Yes, he is."

"Now, that's pretty funny." Miles is grinning as Bass & Charlie say their "I do"s.

"I'm not surprised that Aaron would do that. After all, he does love his pop culture references; but I think it's funny YOU still remember who Logan Echolls even is." She chuckles.

"I bet Bass remembers too. Come on Rachel, who could forget LoVe – one of the best 'ships' ever? Bass and I watched that whole damn series on Netflix back in the day. Can't remember for sure, but we might have even read some naughty fan fiction about those two." Miles and Rachel clasp hands and smile into each other's eyes. Miles hasn't asked yet, but he's been thinking about making an honest woman of Rachel. This wedding pretty much seals the deal. Life is too short for waiting. Sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. He tears his eyes away from his beautiful Rachel when he hears Aaron say, "By no power invested in me whatsoever, I now pronounce you husband and wife." His words are met with chuckles from the group. "You may now kiss the bride."

"Come here Charlotte," Bass says to her softly, looking deeply into her eyes; his own full of promise.

"Bass," she responds quietly leaning into the kiss. Everything is perfect. The kiss is their first as husband and wife. It is sweet and gentle and promises to be much more later when they are alone. Breathless they part.

"And here they are folks, Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Monroe." Aaron announces as they turn toward their guests.

Cheers and applause rise from those gathered to celebrate with the happy couple. The newlyweds are grinning and holding hands. They are both imagining their future together, and all the joy it may hold; each basking in the knowledge that neither is empty anymore. This is the real deal, and they consider themselves very lucky to have found it with each other.

Aaron looks on, smiling. Carefully he closes his eyes and thinks about fireworks. Suddenly the night sky responds, filling with shining fireflies. Hundreds, maybe thousands swoop and swirl above the people gathered. All are looking up at the amazing spectacle, soaking up the beauty of the Nano light show. Aaron nods his approval in the direction of the fireflies. Then he looks at Monroe to see if this is what he'd had in mind when he'd asked for a Nano favor not so long ago. Bass smiles at Aaron and mouths silently, "Thank you."

Clasping hands they greet their guests and when the people start to disperse, Bass turns to his wife and says, "Alright Mrs. Monroe, now that you have me – whatever are you going to do with me?"

"Oh I'll think of something." She says with a wink, and with that the lovers embark on their very own happily ever after with a magical light show to lead the way.

**End**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Epilogue still coming. Also, if you didn't already know… Logan Echolls was the romantic hero in the short lived tv cult hit Veronica Mars. Aaron loosely quotes a famous little speech Logan made to Veronica. The real thing went like this, "** **I thought our story was **epic** , you know. You and me. Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined and bloodshed.  **Epic**." I'm a huge fan of V Mars and I thought this little quote fit for Bass and Charlie too.**

**Please leave a comment. Would love to know what you think.**


	12. Epilogue

**A/N: I don't know if epilogues are supposed to be smutty or not, but this one is a little bit. Note that there is a bit of a flashback or backstory in this. I don't usually do that, but felt I needed to here. You'll be able to tell because that bit is in itallics. Enjoy.**

* * *

Charlie stands at the large bay window in their bedroom, looking out at the city before her. She watches the bustle below and is in awe of the changes that have transpired since the New Monroe Republic was born. A milder, gentler version than the first; the New Monroe Republic is flourishing. Schools, hospitals and churches are opening. New construction dots the landscape. Those few Patriots who had survived the battles, are now either in prison or in hiding.

_Shortly after the decisive battle of Omaha, wherein the Patriots had been soundly (and finally) defeated; a treaty was signed that brought to life the New Monroe Republic. Connor, Bass and the council had discussed for weeks where the budding country's new capital should be located. Eventually they settled on the city formerly known as Des Moines. It was centrally located, and had been largely unaffected by the Patriot War. The new administration had made a deal with the local Amish community. Since they had flourished without the benefit of electricity for generations before the blackout, they had remained largely unfazed. Connor agreed to partner with them. The Amish were not warriors. They didn't believe in fighting. Connor exchanged protection under the New Monroe Republic for their help. Soon the locals were learning long lost skills, improving their daily lives and slowly rebuilding civilization._

_The move from Texas to the middle of the Plains Nation (or what had once been known as such) had taken weeks for the combined Matheson & Monroe clan. Along the way, there had been a surprise attack from a group of left-over Patriot rebels. During the skirmish, a bullet had torn through Bass' left leg – dangerously damaging an artery. Gene and Rachel had been able to stitch him up, but an awful infection had followed. Bass had been near death's door for two long weeks, feverish and delusional. Finally some antibiotics had been located, and Bass began to heal._

_Charlie had been beside herself with worry during the ordeal. To make matters worse, it was while her beloved Bass was in and out of consciousness that she discovered she was pregnant with their first child. Torn between the ultimate grief and the ultimate joy; Charlie had managed to stay strong. When Gene told her that the worst was behind them and that Bass was going to make it, she almost didn't believe him. In her life, she had become so used to people she loved dying; she'd assumed the worst was in store._

_When she went to see him, he looked pale and drawn; but oh so happy to see her. "Charlie" he croaked out, his voice raspy with misuse. His eyes were tired, but still held their sparkle._

_"Bass, You can never leave me. You can never leave us." With those words she had laid his hand against her just barely swollen belly, waiting for him to understand._

_His eyes filled with tears and he pulled her down so that he could wrap his arms around her. "A baby?" he asked reverently. "We're going to have a baby?" She nodded, tears of happiness running down her cheeks. Even through he was beyond exhausted, Bass Monroe could not hide his happiness. He grinned at his wife – pride and hope shining through tired eyes._

She remembers these things as she looks down on the city once known as Des Moines. Renamed "Sebastian" by Connor, it has become the hub of the New Republic's government. Because of Bass' injury and subsequent recovery time, he has had a smaller role in the new administration than he had anticipated. Charlie had been worried that it would bother him, but instead he has surprised her with a calm acceptance of the change in his overall role. "I had my turn Charlie. It's time for Connor to take the reins."

Connor has indeed flourished in his role as ruler. His council supports and advises him. He is a strong leader, but also fair and kind. Some call him "The Gentle Monroe". He doesn't mind. Duncan has become his right hand, as well as his lover. They don't speak in terms of future plans, but both are happy where they are. The Republic is most certainly back, though it's a kinder, gentler version than when his Dad had run things.

Miles is in charge of the New Republic's military academy. He thrives there, teaching and advising. Rachel is also an advisor, but as peace has prevailed she finds her input less necessary. In her free time, she and Aaron have begun a small lab where they lead a team of scientists who are trying to discover ways to make life easier, healthier, better.

Gene is running a small medical school. He is not as spry as he once was, but still insists on taking care of his family. He had delivered the baby – a beautiful little girl, and everything had worked out well in spite of Bass' panic and worry that something/anything might go wrong.

One of Charlie's most cherished memories is of when Bass held the baby for the first time. The look on his face had been so loving, so open and sweet – it made Charlie's heart hurt. She could simply not imagine life without him.

As if conjured by her daydream, she hears the door open behind her and Bass enters their room. Her heart skips a beat – even after all this time, seeing Bass does things to her. She grins in his direction and begins walking toward him. The injury has taken a toll, but Bass is still a striking sight. His leg will never be the same, and he has taken to using a cane to help him get around. His limp is less pronounced now but he's never going to be running any marathons. Maybe more striking than the limp is his hair. Bass' curls are now streaked with silver, as is his beard. Like only men can, Bass has aged beautifully. Somehow he's hotter now than he had been before. Charlie sighs happily, her belly full of butterflies – her eyes locked with his. They walk toward each other, smiling.

When they meet in the middle of the room, she falls into his arms. Charlie leans up and touches her lips to his in a soft and tender kiss. He responds in kind, and they are soon lost in each other. The moment is broken by running footsteps and squeals of laughter. A tiny blond toddler comes barreling into the room on unsteady legs. She makes a bee-line for her parents, and jumps up and down, excitedly. "Mommy, Mommy!" she cries, flashing brilliant blue eyes; her white blond curls bounce around her chubby face.

"What is it sweetie?" Charlie asks her daughter, kneeling down to the little girl's level.

"Connor gave me a piggy rides and cookies!" she squeals happily, her eyes dancing with delight.

On cue, Connor enters. He smiles at his Dad and Charlie and then scoops up his baby sister, throwing her high into the air. "You ran away from me, Faith." He shakes his head at her playfully. "You were supposed to stay right by my side."

Bass wraps his arm around Charlie's shoulders and watches his children interact with each other. He and Connor have grown close, and little Faith is the apple of her Daddy's eye. He would have never thought fatherhood could be so fulfilling, but it has become the most important position he's ever held.

"Don't you have a country to run?" Bass teases his son with a chuckle. "We can take it from here, can't we Faith?"

"Yes, Daddy." She smiles up at Bass and his heart melts. "Can I have more cookies?" Bass ruffles her hair and laughs.

"We'll see." He says to her. The pout she gives him makes Bass throw his head back and laugh. "You are your Mother's daughter indeed."

Later, after Faith is fast asleep; Bass and Charlie are cuddled together in their bed. It is soft and big and covered with clean linen. Charlie nestles down, making herself comfortable. "I will never, ever take a real bed for granted." She says with a sigh. "This feels amazing."

"Yeah," Bass agrees, pulling his wife closer. "This will never get old." She can tell by the look on his face that he's not actually talking about the bed. "I love you." He whispers.

Charlie moves near, and kisses him softly. "I love you too Bass Monroe." Her voice is soft, but he detects a catch in it.

"What's wrong Charlie?" he feels tension rising in his gut at just the thought of anything causing her distress. She is his everything and he can't bear for her to be sad.

"Nothing Bass. I'm so happy. Just having an emotional day I guess."

"Well we all get to have those once in a while." His smile is soft. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Mmmmm", she says, her lips pressed against his throat, letting him know exactly what he can do.

Their mouths meet in a kiss that is hot and sweet and gentle. Bass strokes her back gingerly. It doesn't take long before the touch of his fingertips begins to ignite nerve endings up and down her spine. Without breaking from the kiss; she feels her way down his hard chest, running fingers across hardening nipples. Her fingernails scrape ever so lightly across his taut flesh. She tastes his groan as her hand moves lower. She wraps her fingers around his hard cock, firmly but tenderly stroking his length. The kiss becomes urgent, both needing release. He pulls away from her grip and knowing what he wants, she straddles him. He grabs her hips and she guides him home. Fully enveloped by her heat, he looks at his beautiful wife in all her naked glory. God she is amazing. He loves everything about her. She begins to move and he feels the tension building. Reaching up, Bass grasps both breasts in his hands. He kneads them ever so gently. She begins to move faster. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back. Bass strokes her nipples and the swell of her flesh tenderly, exploring. She's starting to lose control, and he rests his hands on her hips, slowing her pace and then stopping her altogether. "Open your eyes." He says to her, voice rough with emotion; his cock still buried to the hilt within her folds.

Charlie does as he asks; looking down at him, her eyes are hazy with passion. "Bass," she says quietly, needing him to release her so that she can move against him again. She's so close. "Bass," she calls out louder. He doesn't respond, other than to move back to her breasts, his hands touching, caressing, and searching.

"How far along are you?" he asks with a slow possessive smile.

She opens her eyes fully now, surprised. "How do you…?" she starts.

"Your breasts are so full and tender to the touch. The only time I ever remember you like this was when you were pregnant with Faith." He releases her swollen breasts, moving lower to rest both hands ever so gently on her barely sloping belly. "My baby." He says quietly, proudly.

"Yes." She replies, mirroring his smile with one of her own. "Your baby... our baby…. will be here in the fall." She feels him shudder a little, and then he uses his hands and hips to urge her back into movement. The pace is somehow both tender and frantic. They hold each other's gaze as she shudders to a climax. He follows not far behind, melting into her core. They collapse together in a heap; Charlie's face buried in his neck.

"This is what it's like, isn't it?" he asks, stroking her hair.

"What's what like?" she asks, curious.

"Happily ever after." He kisses Charlie before continuing softly, "That's what we have."

"Yeah." Charlie sighs contentedly against him. She doesn't know what the future may hold, but she knows that as long as she has Bass at her side, she can face anything. "This IS happily ever after."

**Epilogue End**


End file.
